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SYRACUSE, N. Y; 




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Fifty Years at the Card Table. 



-THE- 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY 



-OF AN — 



OLD SPORT, 



-BEING- 



THE RECORD OF A CAREER FAMOUS FOR ADVENTURE AND 

VICISSITUDE, AND IN WHICH THE JESTER WON 

MORE TRICKS THAN THE GAMESTER. 



-^^■' 



-BY- 



# 



HARRY R pon^^;^^^ 

("Dupely Dodge."jf ^ . ^ ,- «fv«M: 

*'A gentleman and a gamester, the varnish of a complete man.** — S?ici?fs^peare. 



SYRACUSE, N. Y. 
1885. 



Bkitered according to Act of (ingress at Washingrtoa, D. C, in the year 1885, 

By A. a. COURTNEY, of *'COURTNBY, PLACE," 

Syracuse, N. Y. 



•PREFACE, 



The editor of this autobiography makes a claim only to 
knowing more about grammar than of poker. This will pos- 
sibly explain what little partnership he has in the making of a 
book, which brings back the author almost from the dead — for 
the oblivion of the renowned is a hereafter presenting a pros- 
pect more dismal by far than the Hereafter of which death is 
the precursor. The story herein contained is as the veteran tells 
it, the task of the editor extending not much beyond the detail 
of arrangement. The continuity of events has been preserved 
with as fair a degree of accuracy as possible, a feat difficult of 
accomplishment, inasmuch as the author was dependent solely 
on his memory for dates and circumstances. Discrepancies of ' 
this kind, if discovered, the editor is consoled to believe, will 
in nowise mar the felicitous recital which a remarkable career 
has suggested. 

Syracuse^ February 75, 188^, 



To 

MY FRIENDS 

THE GOOD SrSTERS AND NOBLE WOMEN 

in charge of 

St Jdseph^s Hospital and the House of the Good Shepherd^ 

at Syracuse^ N, K, 

Who^ finding the Old Sport about to lay down his hand^ gave 
him a seat at their tabley that on playing his last 
trump y he might have his chips cashed 
for par J and drop out of 
the game of life with- 
out a paftgj 

I Dedicate this Book 

with 

A Tough Heart full of Tender Gratitude, 



THE AUTOBIOCRAPHY Of AN OLD SPORT. 



CHAPTER I. 

BIRTH AND EARLY PEREGRINATIONS. 

I was born November 3, 181 2, at Howlett Hill, Onondaga 
County, N. Y. My sainted mother drew to a pair of jacks and on 
the day of my birth held three of a kind. My two younger 
brothers, of a family of eight children, remain to tell the story. 
Spades figured in the early years of my life. My father was a 
farmer, who had come to Onondaga County from the green hills 
and fertile dales of Vermont. I never took kindly to the rural 
life into which the shuffle of fortune threw me. I was prob- 
ably intended by the gods for a poet. You see that Byron and 
myself had the same kind of a foot. Byron clothed his thoughts 
in limpid verse and I mine in fine raiment. My folks, finding 
my crippled leg a poor peg on which to follow the plow, bound 
me out to a tailor. I was then in the green and callow age of 
fifteen years. It was on E. P. Ostrander's bench that I first 
mounted the goose to ride to the moon. The soaring bird 
dropped, before a year was up, into the shop of J. D. Huntley, 



8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

in Syracuse, where I sat cross-legged until a year later, when^ 
game-footed, as I was, I cut sticks and ran away. Rochester 
was my destination, the trip being made by line boat. The 
next summer brought me back, like the prodigal in the good 
book, but instead of being received at the slaughterhouse, the 
police transported me to limbo. A warrant for my arrest had 
been taken out by my employer, Huntley, who claimed me as 
an apprentice. My case was espoused by Grove Lawrence, 
who discovered that my indenture papers contained no date, a 
lucky chance, which unloosed the grip of the law on my coat 
collar. By this time I had become a wanderer on the face of 
the earth. This inclination to penetrate the bowels of the earth 
has been the predominant trait in my life. I have always had 
as much go in me as a r^lroad train. There was none of them 
running in those days, but it was the perpetual motion of human- 
ity, as marked in myself, which set the example for the iron, 
horses. I gravitated here and there, like a bird of passage, first 
sewing a little at Rochester, then putting in a stitch at Syra- 
cuse, and then using my thimble at Batavia. Six dollars was- 
then the price of making a coat. The dudes of those days 
wore togs that had the handiwork of genius in their seams, you 
may better believe. 

My boss at Batavia, for part of the time, was Guiteau. The 
name now has a stench in my delicate nostrils. We used to 
slash and stitch in abasement under the building in which Mor- 



AN OLD SPORT, 9 

gan, the printer, had his office. This was the fellow; who 
peached on his Masonic pals. The excitement over his spirit- 
ing away I recollect very^well. The kidnappers caught their 
man about five miles south of Batavia village, and putting him 
in swaddling clothes, so he could not peep, hurried him off in 
a closed hack, like a cadaver in a hearse, to Canandaigua, where 
he was kept over night in the jail. The mystic brothers had 
access to locks and bars in those days. From the dawning of 
the next morning he was never seen, and whither he drifted or 
whence his soul took flight, none of us know. They do say he 
was floated over the boiling cataract at Niagara. I never 
investigated the chances of life in that spot, hence cannot say 
whether he would have come up smiling if he had gone over. 
Buffalo was brightened by the light of my countenance next. 
Case's Hotel, which was then the stopping place of most strang- 
ers to Buffalo, charged me twenty shillings a week for board. 
Many a meal has since cost me many times as much. The 
hotel men of that time used to be known from one end of the 
State to the other. I was scraping up acquaintance with all of 
the ilk, a knowledge of men, which, in after life, was of great 
service to me. Among the landlords with whom I fell in that 
year was Uncle Tom Greely, a Mohawk Dutchman, who kept 
hotel at Geneva; Nottingham, a hail fellow, also furnished 
entertainment for man and beast at Palmyra; Ashley, the bon- 
if ace of the Clinton House at Rochester, then no great shakes 



10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

of a place. Charles Taylor, the leading tailor, and myself worked 
side by side all that winter. 

In the spring of 1832 I returned »> my native heath. But 
Syracuse was not the place for a budding genius like miae, 
thought I, so off I went at the first chance for Albany.* I had 
heard a great deal about the hospitality of the Knickerbockers. 
En route, as we say in the French, I stopped at Utica. Let me 
here remark that I was not on my bridal tour, either. The 
place was excited over a big turkey shoot. All the crack sports- 
men of the State were on hand to take the lives of the gob- 
blers. Bagg's Hotel, then a little two-story inn, the chief 
institution of which was its bar, gave the traveling tailor shelter. 
I laid aside my kit long enough to have a shy at the birds. 
Philo Rust, of Syracuse, Captain Burrows, and others, whose 
names were household words along the line of the Erie canal, 
were in the shoot. These affairs used to bring hundreds of 
well known men of a sporting turn together. The horse con- 
vention too, was a favorite show at the ti^e. By and by I got 
as far as Albany, where the old Dutch rust was still on them, 
as thick as hoar-frost in winter. It was a bad place for tailors. 
They were too slow there to appreciate a change in fashion. 
My young heart bounded with joy when the noble old Hudson 
awoke from its winter dreams and throwing off its frozen cov- 
erlid, swept onward toward the ocean. The steamer Swallow, 
then the floating palace of the river, took me on board as a 
passenger. 



AN OLD SPORT. 11 

New Yotk looked as big as a pumpkin in the eye of a gnat 

when they dumped me next morning with the rest of the cargo 

on the great dock. It was about the first glimpse I -had ever 

it- 
had of the big world. I wandered among the hurrying crowds 

of people like a pismire in a sand heap. I had to eat, drink 
and lodge, so I looked about for a tailor shop where they would 
take me in. My handy needle was made use of by Oatman & 
Hendrix, in Park Row, which at that time was the heart of the 
metropolis. Afterward • I served awhile with Whiting & 
Hokirk in Chatham street, the site of the new Jerusalem. 

That summer King Cholera came stalking into town. No- 
body knew whether he was going to wake up dead or alive. 
Death played a lone hand and for high stakes. People going 
along the street were doubled up like jackknives and taken up 
high in the golden chariot. The wagons trooped through the 
streets loaded with coffins like endless funeral processions. The 
City Hall was a charnel house. About this time I thought I 
would hie me to green fields and pastures new. So up the river 
I went sailing on a schooner, disembarking at Newburg. 
Without stopping to view the relics of the Revolution, or the 
headquarters of my old friend, George Washington, I pene- 
trated into the bowels of the earth about fifteen miles, where I 
thought the cholera could not catch me. I turned up shortly 
after at Albany, but finding the cholera had preceded me there, 
I determined to make tracks. A tramway made of wooden 



12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

rails had just been laid to Schenectady, on which I took pas- 
sage, being drawn over the distance by horses. Old Dorp was 
still nodding, a century behind the times. I knew the town was 
not fast enough to get away from the grim monster, so I made 
my way to Saratoga Springs, whose bitter waters I was assured 
would prove an amulet so potent as to ward off the disease. 
The spa was not much of a place then, this being long years 
before the glitter of fashion turned a stream of golden ducats 
into its lap. The Marvin House and Union Hotel did all the 
business of the place. 

The only tradition the sp^mgs had was that Sir William John- 
son had been carried across country to the cure-all, sick with 
the palsy, to be mended by deep draughts of Hathorn. The 
water tasted to me like a tradition, a tradition of eggs about 
old enough to hatch ostriches. 

^*Krist,*' I said to the little girl who used to stand over the 
pond, ^'I prefer mine scrambled. Haven't you got some una- 
dulterated water ?" 

** What's that, sir," she said with an innocence that no Sara- 
toga gal has ever duplicated. 

*' Water that John the Baptist has not washed his feet in/* 

'' O, sir, that is sulphur you taste sir, nobody washes their 
feet here." 

" Except the devil," I said. 

That is why I have always called Saratoga the *^ Devil's 
Washbowl." 



AN OLD SPORT. 13 

Saratoga held me until the fall. Then I went across ' the 
country to Ballston, Johnstown and Fonda by stage. All this 
time I was driving away at my humble and poorly paid trade. 
Captain Harry Perkins brought me on his packet boat west 
from Utica. The captain had formerly been at the desk in 
Philo Rust's Syracuse House, an introduction to the traveling 
public which made him no end of friends. The cholera was 
still traveling in its seven league boots. When I reached 
Syracuse it had the town*i its grip, my arrival there being at 
about the time that Dr. Kirkpatrick, the Salt Superintendent, 
was counted among its victims. 

Up and down the country I .traveled for the next three 
months, among my trips being one to New York and thence to 
Philadelphia. The Quakers, with their poke bonnets and dun 
colored garb, were a revelation to my Onondaga taste, but 
their demure ways suited me well. I have a soft spot in my 
heart for the disciples of the thee and thou. While in Phila- 
delphia I boarded with a family in the house in which William 
Penn resided. The old chap and myself would have been 
good friends, but I did not even see his spook, which they 
said walked the earth. 

My gypsy moods turned me toward the sunny climes. 
How to get down toward the equator was the question. 
Finally I struck a bargain with the commander of a schooner 
about to set sail for Richmond, Va., who, in exchange 



14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

for a passage, was to take a blue coat which I was to make 
him. They do say I got even with him when I cut the coat, 
I sewed brass buttons on the blue navy cloth garment. For a 
land lubber I got along well enough out at sea. The captain 
said I was so sick he thought I would discharge his cargo be- 
fore he landed. Before returning I made quite a tour of Vir- 
ginia, visiting many places, including Richmond, Norfolk and 
Petersburg. I had a glimpse of life on the plantation. While 
crossing country from one place *to £y|other I found a planter 
sick at his home and his family worn out like my clothes. The 
tailor turned nurse for awhile, and my tender watching brought 
the sick man round again. He rewarded me with quite a snug 
amount of pelf and enough provender to provision a garrison. 
Out of my earnings as a nurse I bought a ticket on a steamer 
going to New York. The weather was as rough as high seas 
and old boreas could make it. I thought I heard Gabriel's 
trump in the roaring wind. 

My stay in New York was about as short as my exchequer. 
Up the river I went, stopping at Albany, Utica and Syracuse. 
Canada had not come under my argus eye up to this time. So 
off I went to St. Catharines. The air did not agitate my 
lungs well enough to keep me among the Kanucks. Once 
again I took up my travels, my good angel bringing me up at 
Youngstown, O. There I boarded with Captain Kelsey, who 
afterward commanded the steamboat Hendrick Hudson^ plying 



AN OLD SPORT. 15 

on the upper Hudson. The captain got to be mayor of Cleve- 
land, O., in after life. I have never claimed that I helped him 
to high office, but there was good luck in my track. 

Before long I got back to Syracuse, on the way meeting an 
old friend John Martin, who, like myself, stitched for a living. 
We cast our fortunes together in Syracuse, and for a time did a 
good little trade, but in the end split and separated. This 
wound up the tailor's bobbin. 



CHAPTER II. 

BECOMING A PATRON OF THE PASTEBOARDS. 

Twenty -three years had now passed over my head. By this 
time I had learned by bitter experience that the tailor's bench 
was nothing but the soft side of a plank. I had got it into my 
head that I could play cards. It was in the fall of 1835 that 
chance took me again to Rochester. Charles Taylor was mak- 
ing clothes for the people of that burg, and he found me handy 
at my trade. I have always maintained that whatever fame I 
earned at the card table would have been discounted with equal 
opportunity at the work bench. Taylor could tell an ace full 
from a pair of deuces. Many hours we whiled the time away 
coquetting with fickle fortune. I had learned the primer of 
the game in knocking about the country and in my time run- 
ning up against some very slippery chaps. 

But it was the merest chance which made the tailor turn card 
player. In the spring of 1836 I heard that a great land sale 
was to take place in Chicago. My heart panted for adventure. 
So off I started with my alpine staff for the far west, for Chi- 
cago was thought to be at the other end of the footstool in 



AN OLD SFORT. 17 

those days. At Buffalo I got a bunk on board the steamboat 
Illinois, commanded by Captain Blake. The old hulk was 
packed full of passengers bound for Chicago, with millions in 
their mind's eye. A detachment of green cadets belonging to 
Uncle Sam's army were aboard, going to the same place. We 
sailed through the lakes by way of Mackinaw Straits, Green Bay 
and Mackinaw. At Mackinaw, where we stopped for a day, I 
fished for suckers, but did not have as 1 luck as when I 

tried other bait on shipboard. Mackinaw was alive with Indi- 
ans. The woods were full of them. They camped out in big 
wigwams. It was here I formed an attachment for the noble 
red man which lasted me through life. Some of their wampum 
lined my pockets for souvenirs. 

Everybody on board the boat seemed to have taken as much 
pains to have a pack of cards as a second shirt. The passen- 
gers were all loaded to the bulwarks with the coin of the realm, 
many of them being rich speculators and adventurers. Quiet 
little games were going on fore and aft, everybody from the 
captain to the roustabouts taking a hand. I was not long in 
having my legs under the mahogany of these gentry. 

^' Let's give dot-and-carry-one a chance to make his expenses" 
said one of the cunning fellows early on the voyage, as I stood 
at the back of his chair, measuring the prospects of riches. 

They caught a Tartar, as my little pile was about $300 the 

better of the sittings by the time we tied up at Chicago. I 
2 



18 AUTOBIOQBAPHY OF 

resolved from that time to see if I could not earn more of the 
"filthy" with the magic fifty-two than with the needle and 
thread. 

Chicago, at this period ,of its history, was nothing more than 
a government fortress. Indians moved about the streets with 
blood in their eye and fire water under their belts. The land 
sale had attracted buyers there from all parts of the country^ 
like flies to molasses. The sales were made under the hammer. 

Gus Garrett, the old man eloquent of Peter Funks, was the 
auctioneer. His voice rolled out of his mouth like the bellow of 
a cannon, it being said that it was heard ten miles off on the 
boundless prairie. The Tremont House, at the corner of Dear- 
born avenue and Lake street, was the first public house in Chi- 
cago. The visitors were tucked away, h^e or six in a bed at 
this place, late comers being hung up on pegs in the closets. 
The Couch Bros., both bachellors, who came from Cayuga 
County, N. Y., were the proprietors. Garrett, the auctioneer, 
in after years talked himself into the office of mayor, the 
first the occidental metropolis ever had. In his palmy days, 
on one of my visits to Chicago, he introduced me to vStephen 
A. Douglass as an '^old pard.'* 

^' I am told, Mr. Dodge,'' said the little giant, taking my soft 
hand in the embrace of his own, ^' that you are the court jester 
of the gambling fraternity." 

** Yes, Mr. Douglass, says I, ^^ my companions are kings and 



AlSr OLD SPORT. 19 

queens, unless I can ring in an ace or two, just for fun." 
My friends in Chicago were all of the top notch. The Bau- 
bien family who drove the first stakes for the city, and 1 used 
to sit over many a quiet game of draw or brag. Luck did not 
run so hard during the land sale that I had to foot it out of 
town. You see the speculative crowd there had no other 
amusement, and I did my level best to supply the place of the 
theater and green-room. Whenever the water ran low in my 
guage I could make a pair of pantaloons and get even again. 
By October of that year the town was desolate again, the 
monied men having all taken themselves off for parts unknown. 

About this time I struck a new deal. A man who wanted a 
horse driven to Buffalo, turned the animal over to me. The 
nag went as lame as -its driver before T got across Ohio, and I 
was obliged to sell the beast. The money 1 returned to the 
owner. I lik<^d the driving, however, and for the next year^ 
made tours through New York State and up into Canada be- 
hind such teams as I could get, stopping where they had a 
dollar to win or lose. My familiarity with the glorious possi- 
bilities of poker w^as gradually increasing. I began to think it 
the mission of a Christian to hold four aces. I had too, been 
taken into the secrets of faro, my sporting friends taking some 
trouble to initiate me. The experience came hii>h, but I was 
bound to have it. 

The next year, 1837, while I wa^ in the wef^t, the P.:triot War 



20 AUTOBIOaEAPHY OF 

had broken out like a boil on a tailor's elbow. My blood 
fairly bubbled with patriotism, until one day, when passing Fig 
Island, fifteen miles below Detroit, I heard the firing in a battle. 
I then began to think that gunpowder was a very useless ingre- 
dient of civilization. Wild cat money v/as the kind of spondu- 
licks in circulation all over that section of country. We used 
to take it by the measure, a bushel of it being such a wad as a 
gentleman might carry. High stakes were the rule then. 

Chicago was then growing like a weed. I decided to make 
a trip there to renew old acquaintances, a venture which 
resulted in adding somewhat to the store of my escapades. 
Captain Harry Whitaker took me to Chicago on his boat 
Harry used to be one of the jojliest tars who ever rode the 
waves. * 

For a circus man, among other things, was I ordained. Dur- 
ing my sojourn in Chicago there came from Boston the tent 
show of which Dunham Brothers & Hoadley were the owners. 
Circuses in the thirties were side shows to the caravans I have 
lived to see. A stuffed boa, a monkey with the jaundice, and 
a poll parrot, who could swear, was a pretty respectable me- 
nagerie. But it was on the performances in the ring that they 
banked. Eaton Stone was the principal rider of the show, a 
man of daring and agility, as sure to light on his pegs as a cat 
thrown from a boarding house windov/. He did an Indian 
chase on a bareback steed so well that it made the hairs stand 



AN OLD SPORT. 21 

on end like quills on the fretful porcupine. Sam Blaisdell, also, 
an old timer, was the ringmaster. Nobody ever swung a lash 
with this wizard of the whip, who could dot an i with a drop 
of ink on the end of the cracker. The show folks and myself 
became cheek by jowl. At the end of a three weeks' season 
in Chicago the circus, with me in its wake, started for the 
West. 

It was a dreary ride over roads rough enough to rattle the wis- 
dom teeth out of the head The boys stowed m.e aw^ay in the 
band wagon, where I drew on my imagination and experiences 
for their entertainment. Had I taken their advice I should 
now be writing the autobiography of a circus clown, instead of 
narrating the vicissitudes of an old sport. Motley, the boys 
would have persuaded me, was the only' wear. But I saved my 
jokes for the green cloth, instead of cracking them to gaping 
thousands in the sawdust arena. One night the horses losing 
their way in the dark, got unhitched and the procession had to 
hold up until daylight. 

The circus reached Pawpa Grove in time to catch a caravan, 
of Indians on their way west with their belts full of head money 
just'paid them by the government. The reds were carried away by 
the dashing riding of Stone, who whooped it up with all the gusto 
in him, until the sons of the forest went wild. They were so 
excited that half the audience stampeded from the tent. I 
stood at the golden portal doing the part of St. Peter. You 



22 A UTOBIOGRAP Y OF 

see I took tickets and as the people came tearing out it was my 
duty to quiet them. So I yelled: 

^^ Whoopee! If you'd only told me you were coming I'd had 
checks ready for you. The ante to get back is precisely fifty 
cents. Walk up, walk up; any way to get up; if you can't get 
up any other way throw your money up." 

My good humor seem.ed to quiet the public pulse. Least- 
wise the audience went back to its perch. 

We showed two days there. The Indians showed a deep 
mental penetration. The aborigines have minds of an inquir- 
ing bent. What I knew about the festive game of poker they 
were welcome to, their silver shekels being all the remuneration 
I asked. One noble red man, in a jack pot, flashed five aces 
under my nose. I tried to have ^'poor lo " explain where they 
came from, but failed. He convinced me, with a flourish of 
his penknife, that some packs of cards were fixed like a prairie 
wagon — it had five wheels. 

At Galena the show found the lead miners flush with coin. 
•The ante was therefore raised, it being made to cost one case 
dollar to get under the canopy. As they had never had a circus 
.there before they came down handsomely, but thet got even 
with us by making the clown explain all his jokes. The Hoos- 
iers could not see through them. 

Here I decided to quit the tinsel of the circus and with bilge 
water in my eyes I said farewell to the gilded chariot, the high 
kicker and the man with the iron jaw. 



CHAPTER HI, 

EARLY TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 

The Mississippi river, I had heard, was the lap of luxury. To 
its broad bosom I resolved to devote my talents, and with a 
cousin of mine, with whom I had fallen in, we took passage 
for St. Louis. The glorious old river was the artery through 
which flowed the vital current of the great west. The steam- 
boats were monster affairs, with double decks and tremendous 
splashing wheels, which churned the water into foam as I had . 
seen the milk manipulated on my father's farm, long before I 
became of the world worldly. 

Life in these vessels was of the liveliest kind. It cost a 
little pile to get fair accommodations on board, for the pas- 
sengers lived high and their potations were deep. The bar 
was a mint which coined the golden eagles faster than the 
presses at Washington. Enough of the popular beverage was 
quaffed during any trip to float the boat. 

Large numbers of the passengers were Southern gentlemen, 
who were traveling for pleasure or profit, and hence did not 
count the pennies like beggars. Every mother's son of them 
had an itching palm for money got in games of chance. 



24 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

The man who could play cards was always welcome. They 
made me so soon after I dealt a few hands. I managed to 
keep my end up in the investment, getting a verdict of $300 
before St. Louis was reached. There my precious cousin went 
off without kissing his kinsman good bye, taking the bank roll 
with him. The slip of his memory and the go in his legs left 
me on my own resources. 

The river boats offered me the best means of catching up 
again, so I continued on to Louisville, and thence further 
south, my luck being tip-top. 

At Memphis, Tenn., there came aboard a large crowd of 
planters and others who made things hum in the card room. 
I was roving about as innocent as a lamb, waiting for some- 
thing to turn up. A fellow, who had poker down about as fine 
as old Hoyle himself, invited me to take a hand with himself 
and a friend. 

''Say, stranger," he said, *' just help me out with a hand» 
Your church will never know it and a few lessons in the game 
will not lose your soul." 

They evidently took me for a Methodist circuit rider. I 

always prided myself on my sanctimonious air. 
" I don't mind," says I, *' if I can oblige you." 
Pretty soon the smart Aleck of the two began holding pairs 

and betting with his friend on his hand. Just to humor them 



AN OLD SPORT. 25 

I made some inquiries about the game as guileless as a babe 
in arms. 

It was not long before we were well started in an animated 
game of poker. I saw he was putting up the cards on me and 
quietly stowed away an ace in my sleeve, while I waited for 
developments. When the time came he dealt me three aces, 
and, as I guessed, himself four kings. I bet pretty steep for 
a minister with a small congregation. 

I led the sharper to the end of his rope, forcing him to call 
me. He threw down four kings. ' 

"What have you got?" he asked. 

" Four aces" was my plea of guilty. 

"You have, have you, you priestly cripple, and you have my 
money, haven't you ? " 

"I have," says I. 

" Damn your eyes," says he. 

"Amen," says I, as I took the wad and put it out of sight. 
They looked up my pedigree later on and found me all 
correct. 

My luck stuck to me like a poor relation during the whole 
trip. Under my mentorship some of those elegant gentlemen 
were enlightened in the game which I was partial to. 

A cotton planter, wbo had sold his crop in St. Louis, had 
some spare change about him, which he offered to pit against 
my pile. 



20 A UTOBIOGRAPH T OF 

We had some interesting sessions, this gentleman and my- 
self, the result being the changilig hands of a good bit of the 
all powerful. I got a verdict. The fellow, with all his south- 
ern notions of honor, had a wicked eye and a temper as nery 
as the furnace in the hold. I hate to hear a man swear at 
cards. It drives away the fishes. 

On arriving at New Orleans he said farewell and I was glad 
to see the last of him. 

Two days after was Sunday, the festive day of the week in 
the southern metropolis. Rambling about the queer old place 
I entered a hall where a masquerade ball was going on, a 
scene to turn the senses of a eunuch. Who should I run foul 
of but my cotton planter. Edging his way to me through the 
mob, he asked me to go outside in a sweet persuasive tone of 
voice. Then he led me around a dismal corner into an alley 
as dark as a pocket, where I could not see my hand before my 
face. 

At last I began to feel weak in the knees. I could not tell 
where he was taking me, 

" Krist," said I, '' hold on a little. I want to go back for a 
lantern to see if I can find the way. You are taking me out of 
the course. I haven't got my compass and may never get back 
to my home amid the fair fields of Onondaga." 

*' Dodge," said the planter, glaring at me in the ray of light 
from a neighboring window, ^^ luck has been dead against me 
coming down the river, by gad, sah." 



AN OLD SPORT. 27 

" Yes," I replied, as if I had had a chunk of ice in my spine, 
"the golden bowl was broken at the well." 

*^ You've got to help me," said he. 

*^Fix the limit," said I. 

Then what does he do but reach back of him and draw 
up from behind his collar a long knife, with a blade that would 
cut soaked tissue paper. 

I could see the steel glisten in the light of the alley. 

*^ Let me have five dollars on the dagger, will you, Dodge." 
he said ; " I want to go to the ball to-night." 

** Put up your scythe," says I, ** I don't want any collateral ; 
take ten, you may want to go to-morrow^ night." 

The planter would not have killed a fly. I have always had 
,a horror of dark alleys since that night. Two days after he 
redeemed the pledge with many thanks. 

Three weeks of life in New Orleans tired me of the place. 

Once again I turned my footsteps toward the frozen north, 
where the giant pines sing the song of freedom. The mag- 
nolia blossoms sickened me like the musk of a chambermaid's 
handkerchief. I secured a snug berth on board the Plantation 
Belle^ the boat which was said to have the best record in the 
river stable. 

Competition among the steamers in those days was red hot. 
Two or three boats would plough out into the river from the 
levee on the drop of the hat. The Fla7itation Belle got into 



^8 AUTOBIOaRAPHY OF 

a flirtation with another boat, called the Creole, before ouf 
steam gauge showed ninety pounds pressure. 

It was quite dark when we left New Orleans, so we could 
only keep track of each other by the signal lights and the flames 
which every now and then burst up through the tall stacks like 
fire in a Dutchman's long nine. 

Our captain had bet $ioo with his consignee that he would 
make Memphis two hours ahead of the Creole, which was no 
slouch on the run. 

That was a night of horror. I thought the engine would 
grind the big hull into toothpicks, before the light of day burst 
over our heads again. If the pilot had not told me that we 
could swim ashore, I would have taken up a collection, or done 
something else religious. 

Before the fog lifted from the river the next morning we had 
got a lead of two or three miles, the Creole being out of sight, 
except when we would strike a stretch of open water, or swing 
around a bend, in a washbowl, when we could see the curling 
smoke back in the distance. 

I had sat up all night with the corpse. There was not a 
man on board who would play a friendly game, even to extin- 
guish the vital spark in the fleeting hours. 

At noon the next day we were going so fast that the cypress 
trees along shore looked like teeth in a fine tooth comb. 



AN OLD SPORT. 29. 

I had just sat down for a mouthful of dinner, when a jar in 
the boat, knocked me endways off my chair. 

"A snag," cried the captain who was at the head of the table, 
with his molars in a beefsteak, as he jumped from his seat. 

A woman, with a cast in her off optic, flopped down on the 
floor next to me in a position to bring the blush of shame to 
the cheek of modesty. 

'^I'll order you up," says I, ^'and play it alone. Lady, give 
me your best card." 

" You're no gentleman," said the saucy spinster, thinking I 
would have her visiting pasteboard. 

'^ Lady," I answered, ^'you must admit that a person whose 
trousers only come to her knees, as yours do, is no gentleman. 

Then I fled from the wrath to come. When I got on deck 
I found our boat aground. The Creole, a mile behind, was 
bursting her boilers to catch up. Her stacks spit fire like a 
blast furnace. 

'^ I reckon some of you men will have to cut away the snag 
which is under our bows," said the captain, " and it will be 
worth twenty-five dollars to the volunteer." 

Three of the deck hands offered to tackle the snag. 

'^ Cut for deal," said I, taking a pack out of my pocket. 

'* All right," they all said, while I shuffled the cards and 
threw out an ace, deuce and seven spot. 

The ace earned the roll. The fellow came within that ace 



30 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

» 

of being killed, as the boat swung around when the snag was 
being cut away, a job which took half an hour, allowing the 
Creole to nearly get us neck and neck. 

It was a dead heat up the river for the next five hours, the 
race depending on familiarity with the channel. Our pilot 
made short cuts, which the Creole did not risk, and by the time 
the sun sunk behind the western bank, we had her where her 
hair was shorts 

The captain won his bet, but not without having burned over 
f ICO worth of hams, enough to turn the stomachs of all the 
people in the Land of Canaan, 

One of the passengers was Senator H. A. Wise, of Virginia, 
a type of the chivalrous southern gentleman, with blue blood 
enough in his veins to furnish indigo for an army laundry. 
We became good friends during the trip up to Vicksburg, 
where I stopped on his invitation. He had two plantations on 
the Mississippi at that place, which he had not visited in 
years. 

Soon after his arrival Senator Wise ordered a sale of slaves. 
This was a sight I had long wished to see, having heard a great 
deal about the shambles of the South. Two or three thousand 
people attended the sale, which was run as I had seen the 
sheriff manage an auction sale in old Onondaga. 

Some of the hardest looking citizens I had ever laid eyes on 
were there to bid for the dusky serfs. Lots of them I would 



AN OLD 8P0RT, 31 

not trust out of the range of a pepper-box with the pot in a 
game of pefiny-ante. 

The auctioneer reminded me of the villains I had seen in 
the plays at the Bowery theater. His hair was long, his eyes 
sunken and his arms lank and crooked like a hickory limb. 
When the prices of the slaves did not suit him he swore like a 
pirate, welting a nigger now and then with a big rawhide to 
make him show his paces. 

Every slave sale used to have a greybeard who was the 
original body servant of George AVashington, This sale did 
not lack the ingredient. As tough a hide as I had I could not 
help but feel for the poor devils being sold off like sheep, to 
be separated without regard for relationship. Mothers cried 
for -their children and children for their mothers. 

Among the slaves sold was a beautiful octoroon girl about 
twenty years old. As she was put on the block the auctioneer, 
looking at me, said : 

^'Here we have the octoroon gal Cloe, the prettiest yaller 
gal in Tennessee. How- much is she worth to you, gentlemen? 
I see our Yankee friend has his eye on her. Make a bid of 
$1,000 for the gal." 

'*The ante is pretty high," said I, ''but if you are going to 
sell flesh and blood like beefsteak by the pound, I will start 
the black Venus at a thousand." 

I wouldn't have taken the girl for a gift, but I was bound to 



82 AUTOBIO(^RAPHY OF 

make her fetch a good price. Three or four fellows were 
after her. I kept them raising her until the figure was $2,500 
when I said : 

'^ All down, set 'em up in the other alley." 

Senator^Wise paid me |ioo for taking a few of the slaves 
to Jackson, Miss. On my return I found him sick at Vicks- 
burg. I stayed with him at the Pickering House for three 
days, until he was better, when I pulled stakes to go to Cin- 
cinnati, making my traveling expenses out of a game on the 
way up. 

By water I continued north to Wheeling, W. Va., and Pitts- 
burg, Pa. 

Resolving to go to Cleveland, O., I found that the trip 
was by stage through what was called the Quaker country. 
The tour was long, but rather new to me, there being many 
peculiar things in the Quaker settlements to interest me. 

The Quakers are very cute. At one place I saw a boy 
picking cherries, who had to whistle all the time he was in the 
tree. He got more cherries in his basket than in his stomach. 

One day after a long ride in the stage over a rough country 
where there were no hotels to speak of, we arrived at a village. 
The passengers were to stop for supper. I was as hungry as 
a grizzly bear. I could have eaten the stuffing out of an old 
sofa. The driver was in a hurry to go ahead. Before I had 
eaten enough to appease the appetite of a canary bird, he 



AiV OLD SPORT. 33 

hollered " All aboard ! " The passengers rushed out to get 
their seats. A Jew peddler iiras in the inside. 

*' This is a dollar freeze out," I said to the driver. '^ I want 
something to eat." 

** Wait until the next stop, twenty miles from here," he 
said." 

*^ Not if the Court knows itself," I said. 

*' Then walk, you fool," cried the driver. 

Before I knew it he was on his box and off down the road 
at full gallop. Then I was in a box. But I determined to 
make the best of a bad mess. So I kept on at my frugal 
meal. 

When the girl who waited on table was gone I collected all 
the spoons on the three or four tables and put them in the 
coffee pot. Then when she came back I asked for a spoon. 

There was none to be found. 

She called the landlord, who was wild. 

"That damn Jew has run off with my spoons," he shouted. 

"Youv'e called the turn," said I. 

Then he rushed to the barn, hitched up his fleetest nag, and 
taking me in, started after the stage at a forty clip. 

We overtook the stage four or five miles off, and bringing it 
up, he demanded his property, with threats of vengeance. 

The passengers all looked aghast. 

Everybody pitched on the poor Jew, who turned his pack and 



34 A UTOBIOBRAPHT OF 

pockets inside out. While the search was going on I got my 
seat. 

Then I politely informed the landlord where his spoons were, 
and asked the driver to whip up his horses, as I was in the 
devil of a hurry. 



CHAPTER IV. 

GETTING A SOBRIQUET AND MEETING GREAT MEN. 

My readers will by this time have some idea of what a jack- 
of -all-trades the old sport has been. It was a versatile nature 
that the authors of my being gave me. Everj-new deal in life 
turned up a different trump. It was ordained that I should 
have a turn at the trade of the drummer. 

That summer I made my way further eastward, my arrival at 
Detroit being at about the time that the Patriot War was being 
waged the hottest. The air smelled strongly of gunpowder. 
So I took hold of a brand of cigars for a firm and sold them 
up through Michigan, where I became well known as a story- 
teller. Once in a while the boys would coax me into a quiet 
game to find me no stranger to its mysteries. I managed to 
knock a little coin out of the trip. 

This narration brings me down to ,840. That spring I was 
in Buffalo, up to my old tricks, having made a trip on the fly 
to St. Louis. The town had turned moral in my absence, how- 
ever, so 1 did not bother them long. 

In a spasm of righteousness the authorities had raided a» 
;he club rooms of the city, driving the fraternity of sports down 



36 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

into the river. Not long after I got there I was given the tip 
A bank was opened on a vessel lying at the dock, to which 
those of us who were known were welcome. Old friends of 
mine gave me a cordial welcome. The police had levied on 
all the furniture and family plate of the rooms, forcing the 
boys to use kernels of corn for chips and an old piano cover 
for a layout. It was a steep game, however. Luck being in the 
opposite direction, I soon went broke against the bank, with 
some of my friends. Then I quietly disappeared resolved to 
recuperate my energies^ 

Going along the dock I found a boat loaded with corn, but 
it was so well .guarded, that I could not get on board, except 
.by crawling around at the stern over a fleet of mudscows. This 
I did at the risk of life. 

I, however, captured a fat ear of the golden grain, which, as 
I returned to the rendezvous, I shelled in my pocket. 

The game was in full blast as I went in again. The boys had 
not noticed my absence. 

By and by I again thought I would tempt the fickle goddess, 
so I bet high on the last turn, throwing out my corn chips like 
a millionaire. It came my way. As I was about to scoop in 
the pile, the dealer blandly remarked : 

"Sorry, old man, but we are not playing reds to-night." 
I have always sworn that I got the only red ear in the load 
Such luck drove me out of St. Louis. 



AI^ Oj.I> SPOET. 37 

On getting to Buffalo I found that my ^M friend, Alva 
Mann, had organized a circus under the name of Welch, Mann 
& Delevan. I'he show was playing in Buffalo to good busi- 
ness. I frequented it at leisure hours, glad to meet some old 
friends of the spangles. 

It was Mann who dubbed me ** Dupely." I never knew 
just why, but he always introduced me to strangers as "- Dupli- 
cate " Dodge. It stuck to me like a poor relation. 

Somehow or other the nickname traveled faster than I 
eould. Wherever I landed the boys hailed me as '^Dupely,'' 
and though I thought the name given me by my sponsojs in 
baptism was good enough, the world had its way. So Dupely 
I became. 

It was Harry Dodge, the tailor ; Dupely Dodge,, the sport. 
You pay your money and you take your choice. 

My crippled foot ^vas alw^ays a sign of identity, like the 
strawberry mark in the play, and to this distortion of nature 
I believe I ow^e something of what fam.e I may have earned. 
Had I had two bowers, like the rest of mankind, I would often 
have had to walk, when I have ridden. 

Soon after leaving Buffalo at about this period in my event- 
ful career, I lost the shoe which I wore on my crippled foot. . 
The nigger porter on the canal packet had taken it away in 
the night. He said he thought it was a *^dice-box," 

" So it is," said I, '^ but you can throw nothing but fives 
with it." 



88 AUT0BI09RAPT OF 

My natural inclination to be stirring allowed 'me to remain 
among my old friends in Syracuse only a short time, especially 
as that town had gone to seed as far as sporting affairs were 
concerned. 

I minded giving Canada a better trial than I had yet been 
able to do, numbers of friends in the cities giving me promise 
of fair treatment and a good time if I would spend a little time 
in the "Queen's back yard/' 

So I started for foreign parts, stopping at intervals at Kings- 
ton, Hamilton and other places before reaching Montreal 

Quite a village I found the place to be, with a pinnacle 
called Mount Royal rising out of its centre like a wart on a 
baby's hand. . The people struck me as being decidedly of the 
English pattern, most of them dropping the eighth letter of 
the alpha and omega faster than their silver coin at poker. 

Steamers were running between Montreal and Quebec at a 
dollar for the round trip, including state room and meals. 
Opposition to the regular line boats brought the fare down 
to this remarkably low ante. 

I took in the sights at the stipulated cost. 

Quebec, the walled city, reminded me of an Onondaga 
county farm inside a stone fence. They were so far behind 
the times there that I concocted the idea that they would never 
get in step with the procession of civilization. Instead of 



AN OLD SPORT, 39 

showing the visitor some live concern they were pointing out 
places where somebody died. 

On my return to Montreal I first met Dan Rice, the cele- 
brated jester, with whom I struck up a friendship which lasted 
through life. The comic Yankee was tickling the ribs of the 
Kanucks under the tents of Nichols* circus. 

The caravan had some other notables in it besides Rice. 
There was Levi J. North, a rider who could sit on a horse's 
back just as easily as at a dinner table. He was the first 
equestrian who ever attempted the straddle of four horses, 
an act which made him a desirable acquisition in any show. 

I have seen all the famous riders 6i the last forty years and 
have been surprised to observe how little the new comers have 
improved on the feats of their predecessors. They don't show 
any more originality in their business than a hen laying eggs. 

With this show was John Gossin, another clown of former 
days, who used to quote Shakespeare like a play actor, and 
sing like a bird. I have heard him get five thousand people 
all in on a chorus. I think he was the originator of this fea- 
ture of the clown's tactics. 

William Sprague, son of the Asa Sprague, well known as a 
stage and railroad man, was a partner in the Nichols' show. 

Levi J. North, the rider, not many years afterward became 
the Barnum of those days. He had the biggest show on the 
road. Out of his earnings he built a large amphitheatre in 



40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

Chicago, which rpade him a pile of money. The amphitheatre 
at St. Louis was run by North for several seasons. 

I was there a benefit night when one of the riders was in for 
a financial boost. Russ Coats, now the proprietor of the 
Whitcomb House at Rochester, was the candy butcher of the 
show. Russ was the inventor of the short measure peanut 
cup, which was a distinguishing mark of the circus vender. 
How his clarion voice used to ring under the canvas pagoda, 
as he sang in dulcet tones : 

*' Here's your nice lemonade, 
Made in the shade. 
By an old maid 
Down ir the arcade, 
Thirteen miles underground.'* 

When Russ was on the benches the clowns in the rings had 
to look out, for he was as free with his tongue as any of them. 
He had lip enough for two sets of teeth. 

Russ took it into his head that he could ride a bareback act. 
Occasionally during rehearsals the ringmaster used to allow 
him to try it. 

When the benefit came he was asked to appear to make fun. 
In an evilmoment he consented. 

Pop Whitaker was the ringmaster. Poor Pop! No one 
ever adorned the arena better than the old man. I never saw 
his equal in handling a horse in a critical moment. His ver- 
nacular was as dainty as a schoolmarm's. 

**Ah, Mr. Merryman,'* he used to say, as Ben Jennings, the 



AN OLD SPORT, 41 

■y 

clown, a rare one in his prime, leaped into the ring, '^what 
will the little lady have next ? " 

Pop had a rod in pickle for Coats when he came into the 
ring stripped for the fray. The boys had provided me with a 
front seat am.ong the mourners so I should not miss the fun. 

Russ had only agreed to mount the flying steed on the 
promise of Pop to keep the beast on one gait. 

The trumpets blew a loud blast of war when the amateur 
equestrian capered out of the dressing room. Ben Jennings 
led him forward, bowing like a dancing master, and gave him 
a hand on to the horse's back. 

"Now Ben,'' Russ said in a whisper, ^' no gum games on me 
or I'll get even with you." 

The band struck into a waltz, to the strains of which the 
horse loped about the circle, while the rider balanced on his 
back, and the audience, led by a few friends, m.ade the amiphi- 
theatre ring. He stood as pretty as the goddess of liberty in 
a Fourth of July procession. 

All of a sudden Pop, wnth a crack of his long lash, changed 
the gait of the horse to a gallop. The result was disastrous 
Poor Russ doubled up at the knees, bent over as if he had the 
colic, swayed to one side and then the other, and finally in a 
fatal plunge of despair, went off the horse into the base drum, 
which was head up at the edge of the ring. 

The audience was in breathless suspense, like a man with hi 



42 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

pile bet on a king full waiting for his victim to call. There Russ 
stuck with his bandy legs sticking out of the drum. 

" He's killed," shouted a dozen voices. 

Being near him I did what I could to assist him out of the 
mouse-trap. He was not scratched. To satisfy the audience 
I stood up and yelled like a foghorn : 

" There's a rose in the garden for you, young man." 

This turned the suspense to laughter and let Russ out of the 
scrape in good shape. That was his last centaur act. 

My stay in Canada was not long. When I again crossed 
the border, which I did by way of Burlington, Vt., visiting the 
grave of Ethan Allen as I passed through, I found the cholera 
raging to some extent east and west. People by this time had 
ceased to be afraid of it and spoke of it as of any other matter 
uppermost in their minds. 

After lingering awhile in Syracuse, I made my way to Co- 
lumbus, O., where myself and Richard Field, a sport from 
New York city, opened a bank. I dealt faro there for some 
winters out of a box made for me years before by my old 
friend, Dan Lefever, of Syracuse. He was then a mechanic 
at Canandaigua. A great workman he was. No wonder he 
has become celebrated as a gun maker. Recently he reminded 
me of the incident in connection with the dealing box, which 
at the time was the prettiest piece of sporting machinery 
between the Hudson and Mississippi. 



AN OLD 8P0RT. 43 

'*When you came after the box," said Dan, "you thought 
it magnificent and though the bargain was for ten dollars, 
as you paid me you said: ^ All right, Dan; ten is little 
enough, so I will copper it with a five.' You gave me fifteen 
dollars." 

It was eariy in the same year — 1842 — that I was on the 
lakes making a trip with Capt. Kelsey, an old friend of mine, 
on board the good ship Hendrick Hudson, The cabins were 
filled with passengers of all kinds. Among those who wan- 
dered about the cabin was a man with jet black hair, eyes the 
hue of coal and a tragic air, whose face I thought I had seen 
before, I was as good as a photographer's spy glass for 
remembering faces. The stranger, who was accompanied by 
a small boy, tripped nimbly up to the bar on the slightest prov- 
ocation, proving himself before half way to Chicago the most 
magnificent drinker on board. The man's face haunted me 
like four aces in a rattling gam.e.- 

It was not long before I identified the man of mystery as 
Junius Brutus Booth, the actor. I had seen him play Richard 
III. in New York one night, when he carved the other fellow 
in the play until he took to his heels. The boy was J. Wilkes 
Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln. 

The youngster seemed to know that his father was indulging 
in the "rosey" too often and tried to restrain the ferocious 
parent, who only cnffed the boy for his pains. During the 



U AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

^ voyage Wilkes became quite a pet among the ladies, he was 
such a clean and polite little chap. The elder Booth was on 
his way to Chicago to play an engagement there. 

One day I found him alone pacing the deck like Hamlefs 
disem.bodied papa. 

''Mr. Booth," I said to the great actor, ''the drama is a 
great game. 

''Is it?" he mumbled, with his teeth in his dictionary, "then 
why in hell don't more people play it well?" 

" Because they don't know how to shuffie as well as you do.*' 

" Shuffle, you dam beggar," he said, so sharply that I almost 
fell backwards over the taffrail " do you take me for a jig 
dancer? I am Junius Brutus Booth, the tragedian.'* 

I had to explain to the rambunctious impersonator that I 
spoke in the vocabulary of the card table. He did not seem 
to be well informed on the matter, but showed better nature, 
and together we crooked our elbows over the steamboat bar. 
When we parted at Chicago he invited me to come to the the- 
atre at which he was playing. I was sorry the acquaintance 
was not renewed. 

My experience has taught me that there is not on God's 
green earth a more gracious, cordial and faithful friend than 
one of the theatrical folk. They have their faults like the rest 
of us, but.thore is a brotherhood among them, as fast as Ma- 
sonry. 



AN OLD SPORT, 45 

I, too, have made my appearance on the stage. This incident 
in my checkered life occurred in Syracuse in 1857. A regular 
theatre had been running there in the building occupied by 
the Sherman House, under the management of an old fakir 
named Potter. The season had been dumpish. To elevate 
him from the slough of despond a benefit was arranged by his 
company and some friends, at which I was to appear, the play 
being picket out to bring me out as a play actor. It was called 
"Six Degrees of Crime." I did not want to show myself in 
public, not for a cent, but they threw down fifty dollars to bait 
me. I always suspected the boys put up the job to have some 
fun with the old sport. 

The play was in six acts, representing the downfall of a 
young man. The first act was wine; the second, women; the 
third, gaming; the fourth, theft; the fifth, murder; the sixth, 
the scaffold. I told the managers I would take but three parts, 
wine, women and gaming. They wanted me to learn a part 
from manuscript, but I told them I had learned the A, B, C's 
at school, and could not bother my head now with the " olo- 
gies.'' 

I will never forget that night. The theatre was chock full. 
My friends were roosting on the front seats like a lot of owls 
in a barn. When the act came in which I appeared as a dealer 
n a faro bank, my legs shook under me like cattails in a swamp. 

The boys gave me a hearty round of applause as the curtain 



4« AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

rolled up. I felt like spitting my heart out on the stage. It 
was the biggest bluff of my life to keep a straight face. A 
good many old timers were in the bill. George A. Hill, Billy 
Forrest, A. C. Baun and several other actors of note had parts, 
as well as Potter, the manager, and his wife. 

It was part of the play for me to be introduced to Mrs. Pot- 
ter in the character of Mrs. Patterson. 

Forrest, the comedian of the company, a dry devil, with lots 
of fun in him, did the business, 

*' Professor,'* he said, ** leading me forward, '' this is Mrs. 
Patterson. You will be proud to know her." 

Before the words were out of his mouth I had slipped my 
cables. I forgot all about being on the stage and saw only 
my old friend Mrs. Potter. 

**Know her," says I, ^^Krist, I know her to the bone." 

The noise the audience made was like a gale on Lake Erie, 
The boys stood up in their seats and shouted. 

I knew I had made a misdeal and felt sorry for it, at the 
same time resolving never to go on any stage again except 
those drawn by four horses. 

Nevertheless the play was a big success and the boys said I 
acted as well as Gustavus Brooke. The act in which I was in 
ended with an explosion, which blew up the faro bank, throw- 
ing the checks, lay-out and other paraphernalia into the air. 

This was my last public appearance. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE TURNPIKES, THE PACKETS AND THE INNS. 

I have traveled more miles by road and water than most 
men of my time. My nomadic life began early in boyhood 
and was continued without an interval until I got on the shady 
side of sixty. Under my observation the most astonishing 
changes have taken place, my own experience being contem- 
pojaneous with the march of improvement. 

When I began to toddle about the face of the earth the only 
methods of transportation were by stage over the turnpike, or 
by packet through the canal. The use of steam was almost 
an experiment on the lakes and high seas. 

The canal rather left the turnpikes behind. The packets 
offered the traveler many advantages over the stage and was 
about as fast. A great deal of capital was invested in the 
transportation business of the early times, the carrying of pas- 
senger traffic being of the first order. Freight shipments were 
a drop in the bucket. 

Along the line of the canal were established supply stores 
like those of the White brothers in Syracuse, which made for- 
tunes for their proprietors. There was a fleet of these packet 
boats, competition among which was as hot as Dutch love. 



48 A UTOBTOaEAFHY OF 

They heralded their approach to each stopping place by blow- 
ing a horn. Nearly every packet, in the course of the rivalry 
between them, sent out runners ahead of their arrival to solicit 
passengers. 

The most exciting littl 3 scrimmages often took place at the 
docks, the captains of rival packets sometimes coming to blows 
in their anxiety to increase their passenger lists. All sorts of 
inducements were offered to make people wait fox approach- 
ing packets. 

At the locks there were endless fights over the right of pas- 
sage. The horses used to be driven on a run sometimes to 
make the lock first. The locomotive power was on four legs. 
The horses were furnished by the towing companies, which 
concerns made heaps of money off of the business. 

Canal driving in those days was something of an art. It 
required more talent then than to trail behind a pair of lazy 
mules. On the sharpness of the driver depended a good deal 
of the advantage of the different packets. A good driver could 
steal a march on a poor one. 

They tell me President Garfield and President Cleveland 
both drove on the canal. It must have been in auld lang syne* 
The driver of to-day is a different breed of dog. 

I have seen wonderful sights aboard these packets. Passen- 
gers were always on the lookout for bridal couples. The 



AN OLD SPORT. 4d 

honeysuckle parties, as we ustd to call them, were always as 
food as a circus. 

1 rtmember once being a passenger between Syracuse and 
Utica, when a gay young lark and his lady love, whose 
TOWS had been newly plighted at the gilded altar of Hymen, 
came on board. They were as close together ail the while as 
the layers of bread in an eating-house sandwich. 

I thought I would give them a little uneasiness as they started 
out on their blissful ramble. Going up to the bridegroom I 
said : 

'* Young man, I would like to see you in private a moment.* 

With some trouble he tore himself away from the rose of his 
bosom. 

" I am sorry," said I, "but I am captain of this packet, and 
the other passengers are complaining a great deal about you." 

** About me,*' he said with surprise, " why what have I 
done?** 

'* The unpardonable sin, young man.'* 

*^ Gracious sakes,** he replied, ** what is it?" 

^' Not murder." 

"Sakes alive." 

'*I suppose Sakes is alive," said I, ^' but I don't know who 

he is, but you will have to stop kissing that young woman on 

this boat.'* 

^' But she is my wife.'* 
4 



50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

^' Can't help it, young man, if she is. Then, how do I know 
that you have been united in the holy bonds of matrimony/* 

"Here is my certificate..** 

"It seems to be all correct" 

*' It is, It cost me five dollars.*' 

** Sorry, young man, biat the rules of the boat prohibit oscu- 
lation on the boat." 

'^ Osculation?** 

'* Yes, what the common herd vulgarly calls kiss^ing. No 
more must you hug your wife, or indeed speak to her in a whis- 
per. The passengers complain of the impropriety of such 
actions and I have taken this means of warning you before 
landing you here in the woods to walk to the next lock. Be 
careful, yonng man." 

The joke worked like a charm. The passengers had as much 
fun as at a show watching the bride and groom try to act prop- 
erly. They would n9t touch one another with a ten-foot pole 
for the rest of the trip. 

There was no love lost between me and a bridal couple. 
The tender passion never found a harbor in my heart. 

"Why don't you marry?" confidential friends of mine often 
said to me. 

This was the favorite salutation of Dean Richmond, the 
railroad magnate, whom I used to meet nearly every time I 
visited Batavia. He used to say that I was the only tailor he 



AN OLD SPORT. 51 

ever knew who could sew on a button so that it would stick. 

"Dupely, old friend," he would say, ^'why don't you settle 
down somewhere with a wife to care for your litte wants ? " 

Then I would sling a little Shakespeare at him. I would 
tell him that I was like Richard III., not " made for sportive 
tricks'* nor to "court an amorous looking-glass." 

" No, siree," I often said to him, "no dominie will ever get 
a fee from me for tying this old hulk to a willow twig. Dame 
Chance is the only one of the weaker sex at whom I have 
made sheep's eyes. I wedded the old gal early in life and the 
honor of a gentleman forbids me committing bigamy." 

This will perhaps explain my cruelty to the cooing turrie 
doves on board the packet. 

My acquaintaince with the famous captains whose vessels 
plied the big ditch which Clinton built along in the thirties 
and forties was very extensive. Many is the trip I have taken 
with Captain Austin Myres long before he began building 
horse railways in Brazil and the South. Capt. Myres was a 
long-headed, fearless man, who never missed a lock or failed 
to get through on time. Whittaker, Salmon, the Wilsons, the 
Stuarts, Horace Bailey, Ezra Downer, Thos. Wheeler, Leonard 
Shears, the Bromley brothers, Dan and Pliny, afterwards pro- 
prietors of the Osburn House, Rochester, and Sam- 
uel Ketchum were all celebrities in their day. They were 
known from ont end of the State to the other and indeed 'by 



52 A UTOBIOGEA PHY OF 

the whole traveUng pubUc. My old friend Downer was the 
speaking trumpet of the raging Erie. No storm ever disturbed 
the waters of the canal that he could not charm with his magic 
whisper. 

The canal packets ran in connection with the steamboat 
Ums at both ends of the State. The Hudson river and Lake 
Erie depended on the canals for their traffic. I sailed the 
lakes so often that I could call every wave on Erie, Michigan 
and Superior by name. 

The names of the old navigators of these waters as I recall 
them were Vaa Allen, Willoughby, McBride, Wilson, Perkins, 
Forsyth, Pease, Wagstaff, Howe, Appleby, Kelsey, Blake, Card, 
Allen, Hazard, Wheeler, Rooney, Wood, Whittaker, (Wirt and 
Harry). They were all good souls, these captains. 

It is like calling the roll on Judgment Day to name them 
over. I believe they have all passed in their chips to the 
greatest of all Dealers. 

Lake Erie in those days was as treacherous as a big Indian. 

s. 

Once, in 1848, I took passage up the lakes, but owing to the 
*^fearful state of the weather, we were storm-bound at Erie, Pa., 
with five other steamers. The wind blew great guns for 
nearly a week, making it almost impossible for anything 
afloat to live. 

The passengers on these boats all took up their beds and 
walked to the Reed House, where we passed the weary hours 



AN OLD SPORT. 53 

until the storm was subdued by the strong arm of Heaven. 
The townspeople hovered around the hotel to have their wings 
burned. There was nothing to do, and as a large part of the 
passengers were of a sporting humor — that was the fashion — 
the boys persuaded me to open a bank. 

Having my implements of torture with me it was not long 
before a quiet little game of faro was in progress up stairs. 
But we had no checks. Buttons were made to answer the 
purpose. 

It was a three days' session and the bank .seemed to be 
standing the storm, better than the steamboats for which we 
were waiting. I thought I would be a millionaire, but w^hen I 
came to cash up, I found the profits about as small as the soul 
of Benedict Arnold. 

It seems the boys had rung in on me all the buttons in 
Keene's tailor shop. 

^' Krist, gentlemen," said I, ''how the box has shrunk." 

But I got a verdict of $300 out of the play and went away 
rejoicing with the flood tide. 

The stage routes were great institutions long before the 
canal was dug. Many a man, famous in after years, got his 
living driving a four-in-hand over the turnpikes. These 
drivers were all acquaintances of mine, it being my mood 
usually to ride with them on top, rather than inside. They 



54 A UTOBIOaRAP Y OF 

were a jolly lot of men, who knew the roads, as a boy at dis- 
trict school knows his alphabet. 

The proprietors nearly all became rich in this world's goods. 
There was J. M. Sherwood, John Butterfield, Asa Faxon, Col. 
Phillips, Asa Sprague, *Col. Lucas, Col. Scott and Jason Wood- 
ruff. These and a few others used to do what the great rail- 
roads are doing now. 

No men were better known along the roads than these Jehus, 
who to the primitive public of the State were the bosses of the 
time- Dean Richmond made friends of them all and when he 
wanted anything they would rally like maggots to carrion. 

No livelier set of fellows ever took carpet bags in a stage 
coach than the judges and lawyers who used to go about hold- 
ing court These cormorants used to take possession of a 
town as the cowboys of the West do now. When they were 
abroad there was no use of applying for seats in the stapge. 
I made it my business to be present as often as- possible at 
these sittings of court. They invariably gave verdicts in the 
cases I tried. 

One day I reached Utica on my way to Cooperstown, N. Y., 
where court was to be held for that section of country. It was 
great times then for the Dutchmen in the Mohawk valley. 
I found on arrival at Utica that all the conveyances had been 
chartered by the court and lawyers. The stage was packed 
with the tribe of Blackstone. 



AN OLD SPORT. 55 

It looked as if I would have to measure the distance on 
foot or stay away. While I was waiting along came a wagon 
with five niggers in the box. They said they were going to 
Cooperstown to give concerts. They were the genuine article, 
a rare sight at that time. 

I made a bargain with the Nubians to carry me to Coopers- 
town in their rig. The way to the village the darkies made 
merry with plantation songs and canebrake melodies. One or 
two of them could pick a banjo like a heavenly harpist. 

As we rode through the country, making the welkin ring 
with our songs, the farmers rushed out of their houses to see us 
go by. The children were scared to death at the black faces 
of the troubadours, who made themselves more horrible by 
opening their mouths and showing their teeth. They looked 
like mammoth caves with cemeteries inside. 

When our buckboard rolled up to the Cooper House steps 
at Cooperstown there was a big crowd outside. I had 
squatted down in the bottom of the wagon box out of sight, 
but peeping out I recognized several old friends. The dar- 
kies drove around to the rear before getting out, and as I was 
afraid I would lose my reckoning if it was known how I came, 
I alighted under cover. 

Then I sauntered as big as life around to the front. 

" Hello, Dupe, old boy," cried Judge Van Schaick, recog- 
nizing me at once, *' where did you fall from ? I didn't see 
you get out of the stage. How did you get here ?" 



56 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

"Whoopee," said I, "I came up with the flush of spades/' 

The five niggers just then appeared and there was a loud 
laugh. 

My case was tried at this term of court and I was awarded 
damages of $200. The judges paid part of it. 

Those were the days when it was a big thing to keep a 
hotel. The popularity of a public house depended on the 
landlord, who to do well, must be a hail fellow well met with 
the traveling public, for to get across the State by stage or 
packet meant the waste of a week, not the matter of a day. 
A hotel man along in the thirties and forties was about the 
biggest gun on the corporation. He had to know how to do 
about everything under the sun. 

No matter how good a table a hotel set, or how soft the 
pillows were, to have custom the landlord must be up in all 
the amusements of the day, for he was the chief cook and 
bottle washer of his establishment. If he could not take a hand 
at poker, roll a game of ten pins, mix a stone-fence that v/ould 
put hair on the teeth, tell a story or dance a jig, he counted 
for about as much as a pair of trays in a jack-pot, where the 
winner had an ace full. 

I remember the hosts of the hotels at which I used to put 
up at as a gay lot of larks with all the qualifications calculated 
to fit them to adorn the high places. They were always on 
hand, like a wart, whenever a stage drew up at their door 



AN OLD SFORT. 67 

The outstretched hand and cheery word were always awaiting 
the dusty, tired traveler, whose parched throats always found a 
refreshing draught at the bar. 

From Boston to Buffalo there was a chain of hotels every one 
as famous in their day as Delmonico's is now. Whether the trav- 
eler went by land or water he made these hospitable inns his 
stopping places. Each landlord made a specialty of some- 
thing. At one place it was the steak, somewhere else the 
coffee and sometimes the whiskey. The travelers knew their 
peculiarities as a navigator knows his chart. 

The Tremont House, at Boston, was the starting point from 
the sea coast. At Springfield nobody ever stopped anywhere 
else than the Massasoit, which used to be celebrated for its 
waffles. Many a plate of them have satisfied my inner man. 
At Albany, Congress Hall was the popular hotel, its old corri- 
ders being the haunt of the big politicians who ruled things 
with an iron hand before Tweed, Tilden and Manning came 
on the carpet. The landlord of this hotel was an important 
enough man to be on Governor Morgan's staff. When the 
Prince of Wales visited this country, the landlord was obliged 
to resign, as the Governor was to receive him, and the cockney 
nabob was too stuck up to meet a common hotel keeper as a 
host. 

Bagg's Hotel has been at the top of the heap in -Utica for a 
half century or more. 



58 AUTOBIOaRAPHY OF 

At Syracuse, the Syracuse House was the Mecca of all the 
traveFers who came along the canal or turnpikes. In all my 
journeyings up and down creation I found no public house at 
which a guest felt more at home. During the palmy days 
when the prince of landlords, Philo Rust, kept it, a traveler 
would walk ten miles rather than not put up under his vine and 
fig tree. Every guest was treated to the queen's taste. Genial 
Philo used to take every comer under his wing and from the 
time that he was routed out in the morning until he was 
tucked away in bed, his life at the hotel was a dream. 

Some rare meetings used to take place at the Syracuse 
House. It was there that I made friends with Dean Rich- 
mond, Silas Wright and Thurlow Weed. It was a great place 
for meetings of public men from all parts of the State. More 
schemes were hatched out there than would last a lifetime. 

I was always at home when at the Syracuse House. In my 
sporting days many is the honest penny I have turned 
there. 

Capt. W. D. Stewart fell heir to the popularity enjoyed by 
Philo Rust. I was as heartily welcome in those days as before. 
One day while holding a levee in the old office, a farmer from 
the way back country was frightened by the loud rumbling of 
the gong, sounding for dinner. 

'' What is that fearful noise ? " said he. 
*' Why, the alarm for dinner, young man,*' said I, '^ on the 
second calamity flee to the mountains.'' 



AN OLD SPORT. 59 

The dining hall being up stairs, for years after that guests 
used to be told to ^^ flee to the mountains " when they asked 
for dinner. 

The Eagle Hotel at Rochester was the next link in the chain 
of inns. It stood on the site of the magnificent Powers block, 
which is now to Rochester what St. Peter's is to Rome. I 
will never forget a visit of mine to the old Eagle in 1835. 
Nobody stood higher in Rochester in those days than H. M. 
True, the merchant prince. He was up to his gills in about 
every scheme afloat, a fellow who could see the date on a 
dollar gold piece a mile off without a spy glass. He used to 
ride a high horse in business. Afterwards he went through 
the blow hole for $200,000, leaving a host of confiding 
creditors to scratch gravel. 

True was not much of a poker sharp. He took more 
kindly to ten pins and once in a while we used to have a little 
battle with the rollers in the Eagle House alley. One night 
he wanted to play for money, to get even on a little sitting he 
had had the night before. 

So we made a match to be played the following night. I 
thought I would get my hand in with a little practice, so I 
rambled down to the alley in the afternoon. I found it pretty 
hard sledding, the balls not rolling my way. I found the boy 
who set up the pins in the chasm below an apt pupil. 

" If you will help me out, you little imp of darkness/* said 



60 AVTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

I, '^ you will blossom forth in a brand [new suit of togs to- 
morrow." 

The urchin saw the point and agreed to my scheme. 

It was to run a string around the pins whenever I rolled 
them and as the ball struck the head pin to pull the string so 
that the whole frame would fall. 

When we went to the alley the next night there was a lot of 
our friends to see the fun. The scheme worked like a charm 
for several games. 

•^ Down they go like rushes in a storm/* cried I, taking a ball 
as big as a pumpkin and aiming it down the slippery incline, 
but before it shot out of my fist, my foot slipped and I 
sprawled on the alley floor like a sucking baby. 

Great Caesar's Ghost, the boy had pulled the string. Every 
pin went off its feet like men with their skins full of tangle- 
foot. And the ball was still in my hand! 

^^Krist!" I shouted as I looked at the disaster, ''the jig is up 
and the monkey's in the box. Sound the loud timbrel." 

True saw the trick and claimed a foul. I, of course, threw 
up the sponge, and paid over the ducats without a compunction 
of conscience. I never after played a game in which my foot 
was in danger of slipping. ^ 

At Buffalo the old Mansion and Hough's Hotel were most 
popular as resorts of patrons of the canal and stage. In the 
early days there were nightly gatherings there of men who 



AN OLD 8F0RT. 61 

sailed the lakes, ship owners and steamboat agents, all gentle- 
men with a knack for cards. Among those whom I remember 
were James A. Raynor, H. B. Ritchie, Julius Movius, Charles 
E. Noble and J. C. Harrison. They were always glad to see 
me, for I had a story to tell or a game to propose. 

So many years of my restless life were passed in these hos- 
pitable places of resort that their decay has made my old heart 
sick. 

I seem to have kept my head above water while the land- 
marks were going down all around me. A man would have to 
have a tougher hide than holds my brisket to be callous to this 
slaughter of the innocents. AH flesh is grass, says the preacher. 
I expect that man will die. One of those days they will find 
the old sport with his cards face downward on the green baize. 

But I expect brick and mortar to stand fast against the attack 
of age. 

But it is change, change, change on all sides. We old-tim- 
ers will have to look out for the cars when the bell rings. 

Syracuse has grown out of my recollection, as familiar as it 
used to be to me. The little shanty in which I used to sew for 
a living, on the tov/path of the canal, has given way to the ma- 
jestic Syracuse Savings Bank. On the other side of the big 
ditch, which in my boyhood was a vacant lot, rises the Onon- 
daga County Savings Bank. 

"Hello," I said when I came back to Syracuse to find it up 



62 A UTOBIOQRAPHY OF 

after a long absence, '* Brock's monument with a dial in it/' 
Civilization is going clear through to the garden ^of Eden this 
trip. 



CHAPTER VI. 

INITIATED IN THE SONS OF MALTA. 

I to.ok about every trick that fell under my notice in these 
halcyon and vociferous days of my careen The mystic order 
known as the Sons of Malta was in fine feather along toward 
i860. Frequent visits to Buffalo cast me among leading mem- 
bers of the brotherhood, among whom there fwas started a 
movement to make me one of them. The mystery about the 
objects and organization of the different lodges was as deep as 
a well. The order was in fashion in all the cities of the State 
of New York, and I believe beyond. Masonry took a back 
seat behind the new fraternity, which was believed to have some 
grand scheme in its head for the reformation of the world. 

Everything regarding the Sons of Malta was in the dark, 
except the rumor that its members had sworn on a stack of 
bibles, as high as the Tower of Babel, to redeem Cuba, the 
bleeding isle, from the cruel thraldom of Spain. The cigar- 
makers of the Carribean had walked Spanish long enough. 

Owing to my crippled foot there was some doubt whether I 
would pass muster. The friends who had undertaken to steer 
me through to the gates of Paradise, however, did not desert 
the old sport. 



U AUTOBIOG^RAPHY OF 

One day, much to my delight, I was informed in a high and 
mighty manner that the order was open to me. It was a 
great honor to be a Son of Malta, for on its rolls were the 
names of all the great men of the time. The sacred cause 
had the support of wealth, beauty and intelligence. 

My sponsors were such people as Joseph Tyler, Harry 
Switzer, William R. Barr and Thomas Gifford, all big guns 
in Buffalo. The night I was to be initiated there were several 
others to pass through the same ordeal. Col. Charles Norton 
and William Lockwood were in the pack ready to be dealt 
out in the full glory of the order. 

I remember the night as if it was my wedding day. I 
was escorted to the lodge room in a roundabout way with the 
greatest secrecy. The delay in the guarded ante-room was 
more exciting than playing for high stakes. 

Pretty soon the novices were taken into the lodge room with 
great ado. There we were introduced to the recording angels 
of the order, who took our names and pedigree. I told them 
that I was sired by a son of old Walkill Chief and dammed 
by everybody, but was made to give my parentage and early 
indiscretions. The instructions were given and oaths of obli- 
gation administered as solemuly as a burial at sea. 

From the room beyond there floated soft, entrancing music, 
which stirred our hearts as uproariously as a dream, the mystic 
songs of the order being chanted by a chorus of high sopranos, 



AN OLD SPORT. 65 

none of which I cculd recognize as those of my friends. 
Then we were led forth Hke a lot of sheep to the slaughter. 
The Grand Conductor, clad in a suit of glittering armor, look- 
ing for all the world like a walking tin shop, came before us 
and ordered the light of day shut out. They tied bandages 
over our eyes so tight that it made me see stars. 

A dead march was then heai:d, to the time of which the 
Grand Conductor and a cavalcade of soldiers, all in coats of 
mail, escorted us into a further room. This was where the 
music was playing. 

This was the throne room of the Tycoons, who received us 
with great formality. We were here solemnly interrogated as 
to our willingness to sacrifice life, fortune and kindred to the 
object of redeeming Cuba from the iron grasp of the bloody 
tyrant. 

*' I'm with you, body and breeches," I said in reply to the 
question.^ 

My blindfold friends were all as enthusiastic in the cause 
and were recorded as soldiers of the legion. Then they raised 
a question about my fitness to undertake the expedition, owing 
to my game foot. 

The Grand Surgeon was called and after a thorough ex- 
amination of my twisted bones, threw me out as unfit for 
campaign service. The blow was a crushing one, as I thought 
I had got through on the skin of my teeth. 



m AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

I heard the voice of a friend protest that no braver man 

I* 

stood in shoeleather than I. My bosom swelled with pride to 
hear my praises thus proclaimed. 

Just at this stage of the game an ominous knocking was 
heard at the portal. 

'* Who is it that thus breaks in on our solemnity ? " I heard . 
a loud voice say. 

**Most noble sir," said another voice which sounded like a 
dying moan, after a great deal of noise as if chains were being 
unloosed, " the Governor of the State, our most worshipful 
brother Dean Richmond and three clergymen of the city crave 
'admittance to' your presence in the name of the lofty principles 
of the order." 

" Admit them," was the reply. 

Then I began to shake in my shoes. I could hear the dis- 
tinguished guests come in accompanied by a procession of . 
attendant eunuchs and slaves. 

The Tycoons, I thought, all stood up as the Governor, Mr. 
Richmond and the dominies came in, for there was a great 
shuffling of feet and moving of chairs. I could hear the 
guests saluted by the officers of the lodge and welcomed in 
the name of its sacred purposes. 

I thought they would npver end the ceremony. All this 
time 1 stood in the middle of the floor not knowing what was 
coming next. 



AN OLD SPORT. 07 

^Vhen all was quiet again they took up my case. It was 

:ided to question me as to my character and if I was eligible 

waive my physical disability. 

[ only wish I had the notes of that cross-examination for 

s autobiography. Such a raking up of ancient history I 

;er heard. They went for me hammer and tongs, making 

confess every little sin that I had committed. What a 

arse of sprouts that was. My sporting career was gone over 

:h a fine tooth comb for every little event that 1 could re- 

imber. After they had hauled me over the coals until I 

)ught 1 was at a confession, they reported unfavorably on 

' case. 

•* Let it be recorded," I heard a deep voice shout. 

* Recorded," said another voice, which sounded as if a 

le off. 

It was urged by my friends, however, that I would be a 

luable acquisition to the band of patriots and Anally it was 

fc*ided to test my physical endurance. I v/as then taken 

li 

jough the gulf. To this day I do not know what sort of an 

fursion I went on, except that they shook me up like a 

'road collision, not giving nie a moment to catch my 

(ath or hand in my resignation. 

They tossed me up in a blanket until 1 thought kingdom had 

:he end of it all I was more dead than alive. The sur- 



68 AUTOBIOaRAPHY OF 

geon examined me and found that I had passed through tl 
fiery ordeal with credit. I was accepted. 

'^ How much will you give to aid in the capture of the di 
tressed isle ? " I was asked. 

^* I'll go my bottom dollar on the picnic," I said. 
. " Let it be recorded that this candidate gives his all to t 
cause," said the voice. 

'^ Recorded," was the echo in the dim and misty future, 
sounded as though some ghost was singing bass in t-. 
bottom of Washington's tomb. 

Soon after the bandages were removed from my eyes, wh 
looking about me, I saw all my friends, with grins as broad 
the billowy ocean overspreading their faces. Then I disco 
ered that they had been having a good time at my expen: 
My companions, too were taken in and done for just the sai 
as myself. Having racked our bones to their hearts' contc 
they treated us like princes of the royal blood, until our si 
rows floated away in a dream of fair women and brave men. 

No experience in my eventful life is more pleasantly reme 
befed. Buffalo has a green spot in my heart. 

Let me drop the remark, which all Sons of Malta will appi 
ciate. The election did not take place that night. 




CHAPTER VII. 

THE GKEEN MOUNTAINS TO PIKE's PEAK. 

!jr was a reamer the next ten years of my life. When not 
Ibing ab(nit the country I felt like a clam at high tide. I had 

'ways made it a point to follow the popular current. When- 
fer I heard of a large number of people going anywhere, off 
, started \n their wake, knowing that it was the. excitable, 
iliventurous fellows who were apt to patronize my line of 

asiness. 

b The grand rush to Pike's Peak made the boundless prairie a 
nery attractive region. Every man with bowels for a specula- 
ifon packed his duds and pointed for the setting sun. I joined 
.le caravan, going out with my cousin, A. A. Howlett, of Syr- 
i:use, and one or two others. Our starting place w^as Pawpa, 
|1., where years before I had got stuck in the mud with a 
ircus tram. 

Our conveyance was a covered wagon, drawn by a pair of 
icious mules, who were momentarily liable to kick the star- 
ght out of the dashboard. The box was stored with proven- 
er for a long journey. The ride was not as glorious as some 
I had on the old turnpikes of Illinois with such professors of 
le rein and lash as Frink and Walker, and Tuthill brothers. 



70 AUTOBIOaRAPY OF 

In my earlier days these stage men used to make the waysidj 
ring between Chicago and Galena, 

Three days of hard driving over the fenceless prairie brougtj 
us to St. Joseph, Mo. The town was wild with excitemer 
over the gold discoveries at Pike's Peak. At least two thouJ 
and p^arties were fitting out in wagons to make the journey t 
the land of endless wealth. It was devil take the hindmost 
All the adventurers were trying to get in shape to start firs^ 
The men talked about millions as if they were going to^ ow 
the earth in a month's time. 

The excursion up Platte river, 600 miles, looked to me loi 
and dreary. We had encountered one or two sand stori 

on the way. They had made a decidedly unfavorable impr^ 
sion on my mind. Before we were ready to proceed I was si 
of my bargain. 

I at last told my partners that they might send me my shar 
of the golden swag by post. So I turned back, making m 
way slowly to Syracuse. That is how I missed being a gol 
digger. My friends turned up some of the golden sod. 

The east next coaxed the old fox out of his hole. At th 
time of the celebrated "- Dow War " in Rhode Island I droppe* 
down among the frightened people of Providence. The littl' 
unpleasantness was over the possession of the Governor' I 
chair. Two men claimed it on the same hand. The difficult;' 
could not be decided by the cards, so they called out the militia 



AN OLD SPORT. 71 

The city of Providence was overrun with the bkie coats, who 
swaggered about the streets in various stages of the jim jams, 
making life unpleasant for the rest of the human species' They 
did not settle the matter until Governor Dow was safely 
stowed in the jug. 

While the soldiers and officers were engaged in these little 
disputes I added to my experience a Rhode Island clam bake. 
There was a vast crowd down at the seashore to partake of 
the toothsome viands. Among the rest were many negroes, 
whom I found had quite an inclination to trifle with the paste- 
boards. Just for fun I tried them at a little poker and found 
them of the pure quill. 

One moke, with a mouth like a baker's oven, whenever the 
cards went his way, uttered this cabalistic jargon, as if it was 

the prayer of a fairy : 

*' Enos, Venus ; 

Sixteen stars, * 

Between us ; 

Riseup, old Hoyle." 

On my way back to Syracuse from the east I made a halt for 
refreshments at Albany. I had many good friends there still. 
Erastus Corning, the old railroad king, always had a kindly 
word for me when we met on the street. One of the good 
fellows of that day was Myron H. Rooker, the editor, whose 
strong constitution has lengthened his life along about the same 
parallel as mine. 

Gil Crane was the proprietor of a wayside tavern on the 



72 AUTOBIO&BAPHT OF 

Troy road, where I used to meet Rooker and others of my 
acquaintances. Of a summer night the road used to be 
thronged with flying steeds. Every man who had a crack used 
to drive out there for an airing. 

I drove up to Crane's door one evening during my stay as 
hungry as a bear. I thought I would put my teeth in a sirloin 
steak, so I ordered as good a one as Crane could cook. At 
that time I did not know that two Albanians had given a like 
order a little while before I arrived. The two Albanians got 
in ahead of me and laid violent hands on the provender before 
I could get there. 

When I sat down, tucked the napkin under my chin and 
grasped the knife and fork with a firm grip, I discovered the 
vacuum in the platter. 

There was not the sign of a steak. 

*^Ah, gents," says I, ^^a misdeal.** 

They did not know me then, but laughed at my discomfiture 
and explained that they, too, had given the order. Crane 
made the thing even by cooking me a private steak. 

Once again the star of empire westward took its way. Col- 
orado was pretty much talked of about this time as the land of 
promise. Thinking that my genius would flourish there I made 
the journey, to find, however, that Denver was a town pretty 
high up in the world for altitude, but backward in the ways of 
civilization. The club rooms were run by fellows who were 



AN OLD SPORT. TS 

better shooters than players. I never liked to deal into the 
muzzle of a cocked revolver. You know I could not run fast 
enough. 

Nevertheless I stubbed around the town long enough to 
make the trip pay for itself. Loafing around one day rny 
vitals began to gnaw for sustenance. So I wandered into the 
first saloon, which had a gap in the front door. The bar was 
ornamented with buffalo skins, a scalp or two, braces of revol- 
vers and a number of bowie knives. The grizzled bartender 
carried a Mexican toothpick in his belt and looked as if he 
could eat a raw dog. 

At the back of the bar I noticed a human skull which 
grinned like a hoosier at a circus. 

Going up to the man who was there to receive applications, 
I said : 

'^ Say, Mister, do you keep a restaurant ? " 

'* Yaas," he replied, drawling it out a mile long, ^' what do 
you want to feed on ? " 

** A piece of pie," I said, tossing out a fifty cent shiner on 
the counter. This the bartender picked up and flung into the 
jaw of the skull as pretty as a pin. 

I got the pie. 

Then I thought I would wet my whistle and smoke a cigar. 
I threw down a dollar coin, which also took its chances in the 
inwards of the brown massard on the bar. 



74 AUTOBIOaRAPHY OF 

'' Do you charge a dollar for a cigar and a drink ? " I asked^ 
as I saw my hard-earned gold disappear into eternity. 

" Do you suppose I keep this here gm mill for my health, 
stranger?" responded my good friend as he fondled the 
handle of his dirk with loving tenderness. 

"No," I says, '* I took this place for a bank — a place of 
deposit." 

That was the way they did business on the frontier in those 
days. No change back was the rule. 

Some of my happiest days were spent in the sunshine of the 
theatrical countenance. My early appearance on the stage 
and dismal failure as an actor, while it convinced me that I 
was not made to strut and rant the public into frenzy, yet it 
only served to give me a fondness for the profession. When- 
ever I found a lot of poor devils barnstorming about the coun- 
try, I never refused to lift them, if a dollar would do it, and I 
had the coin in hand. 

I have always said it was my good angel which cast me into 
the way of meeting Charley Backus, the king of burnt cork, at 
Charleston, S. C, in 1857. I had run down into Dixie for a 
month or two to get a breath of the salubrious atmosphere 
which lies around loose down there. On the bills I saw the 
name of Backus for the first time. He was advertised to give 
imitations of the great actors of the day. One night I had 
nothing else to do, the sporting feeling not being very rampant, 



AN OLD SPORT. 75 

so I drifted into the dingy little theater to see the show. 
Backus was funny enought to make a horse laugh. He took 
off Edwin Forrest, Charles Kean and William Macready, all 
of whom I had seen in New York, to the very life. Long 
years after he did some of these imitations just to please me 
if I happened to be in the audience. 

The next day a friend of mine, knowing the young mimic, 
introduced me. The show Backus was with was playing in 
fearful hard luck. He said he had not earned a dollar in a 
week, that is, he had not received that recompense for his 
talents, which was one and the same thing. 

Backus was about as jolly a dog as one would care to meet. 
He told stories like an old timer. I discovered before long 
that the poor fellow was dead broke. As delicately as possible 
I offered to give him a financial lift, a proposition he accepted, 
taking ten dollars which I filched from the bank roll I carried 
* in my hat. 

That was a lucky investment. A year or two afterward, 
meeting him again, I saw luck had changed. He was holding 
fine hands and was as flush as a fiddler after a dance. He 
paid me back my little loan with interest. Ever after when we 
met he never forgot the old sport, always reserving a box at 
the theater for me, and leaving a U. S. affidavit for ten or 
twenty dollars to help the old sport down the inclined plane. 

Charley Backus and Billy Birch used to banter one another 



76 AVTOBIOGRAPHT OF 

in the performance for my amusement, never failing to ring in 
some joke about Dupely Dodge. The way they have shaken 
my old rib bones has stretched my lease of life many years. 

Poor Charley Backus ! He was the best card in the pack. 
When the old fellow with the scythe gathered in his big heart 
I felt as solitary as an ace in a ba,d deal. 

^^ Dupe, you old rascal, the comedian used to say to nie, 
'^ you must be a hundred years old. How do you keep the 
springs of life bubbling so freshly ? " 

^' I don't exactly know," I used to say, ''but I guess there 
is the elixir of life in your laugh. If you would distil it into 
bottles the world would last forever." 

But I lived long enough to see the genial soul fade from the 
earth. On the day of his funeral at Rochester I put myself in- 
side a new shroud and was there to testify a friend's 
devotion. 

Death is more uncertain than cards. There is Greene ^ 
Smith, (Heaven rest his soul), another crony of mine. There 
used to be high times when Backus and Smith reached the 
same haven that I did. Such stories as we used to banter 
would fill the Astor library chock full. Greene Smith made it 
a point to be at ail the big shoots and sportsmen's conventions, 
and when previous engagements did not forbid I joined him 
there. We got along together as well as two brothers. 

I think Greene Smith was the best story teller I ever met. 



AN OLD SPORT. 77 

When spinning yarns that required dialect he was as good as 
French, Irish and Dutch dictionaries. I never ran across him 
that he did not have something to tell me that was as fresh as 
dairy milk. 

His heart was as big as an ox's. Once, on invitation of the 
genial fellow, I went to visit him at his father's house in Peter- 
boro, about twenty-five miles from Syracuse. This was some 
years before Gerrit Smith, his father, took the long journey. 
The old gentleman treated his son as a daddy ought to, giving 
me, as his friend, a hearty grip and a royal welcome. 

The old homestead in which the family abided w^as like the 
palace of a king. Everything was done in the finest style of 
the art, and while I was under the roof of the venerable abo- 
litionist I was treated like a prince. 

Greene Smith was very proud of his collection of stuffed 
birds. . There was a house full of the plumed mummies. It 
was there that we passed most of the time while L was there. 
Greene had his own little cupboard there which he used to 
open to his friends. 

One day while we sat over a small bottle his father loomed 
up in the doorway like a vision of retribution. The old gen- 
tleman was a temperance man from way back. 

^^ Come in, father," said Green, "and join Dupe and me in 
a nip." 

'^ You will have to excuse me, Mr. Dodge," the abolitionist said. 



78 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

"Dupe,'* said Greene, "would you believe it, father and I 
drink more brandy and water than any two men in this 
county.'* 

I ventured the remark that I had heard Gerrit Smith was as 
temperate as an angel, 

''Oh, yes," Greene replied, "but it is as true as gospel. 
Father drinks the water and I get away with the brandy." 

My friendship with Greene Smith only ended with his death, 
which touched my old heart deeply. His was one of the truest 
hearts I ever had dealt me. 

It was along about this time, which my readers may haye 
guessed was in 1858-9, that I had my whack at the show busi- 
ness. While at Elmira, N. Y., I was introduced by sporting 
friends to Charles Perkins, of Rochester. Boxing was quite 
the rage then, the performances of several English fighters 
who had come over to see John C. Heenan, having enlisted a 
good deal of interest in the manly art of self-defense. I found 
Perkins a man who knew how to put up his hands. He was 
going about giving sparring exhibitions in the saloons and 
other places where sporting men congregated. 

We fixed up a plan which was to introduce him to the public 
as a professor of the art. The result was we both made a little 
pot of money. Perkins not only knew how to knock a maa 
down, but he could tell a story, and among the boys was a 
popular fellow. At cards he was no slouch. 



AN OLD ^PORT. 79 

For a short season I was also manager for Judge Davison, 
a young squirt with the gift of gab and a pretty knack for 
reciting poems. He had been on the stage and was now lec- 
turing and reciting. Not having much to do I engaged to go 
with him as advance agent and doorkeeper. The first stand 
was the beautiful town of Troy, Pa., where I had it yelled from 
the housetops that Proj^essor Davison would recite ** Bingen on 
the Rhine,*' his best hold at elocution. The ante was twenty- 
five cents. Our entertainment was in the Methodist church, 
my idea in choosing a sanctuary being to rope in the church- 
goers.. The sports would come when I called them. 

The gross receipts of the show were $1.75. There were 
just seven persons in the church, the great space beyond 
yawning like a graveyard. 

Davison made a hit on these seven sinners, who at the end of 
the readings, held out inducements to us to come again. But 
we decided that they had no use for us in Troy. 

The cards held out more inducements to me. I lounged 
around the country, first one place and then the other, for a 
year or so doing fairly well against the tide, which was fast 
settling in the direction of war. I saw the grim visage of the 
monster grow day by day, in my travels finding the people as 
ripe as apples for it. In the southern country the feeling was 
particularly strong. 

While in the State of Missouri in 1859, I was night bound 



60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

at a little place called Cuba. The village was a populated rat 
hole. Long before, being on a stage route, Cuba had thrived 
like a green bay tree, but with the building of the railroads it 
did not amount to shucks. When I struck the town I found 
the leading hotel almost as bare as a new-born babe. There 
was a look of utter desolation on the face of things. 

''Landlord,'* I shouted for a long time, without getting an 
answer. I began to shiver with lonelinesss. 

Then I passed through the house into the kitchen, where I 
found a lank, begrimed female, as thin as a rail and as dirty 
as sin. 

** Where is the proprietor of this shebang!" I asked* 

" I reckon/' she said, ^'I don't know what yer mean." 

^' Whither will I turn," I said, "to find your lord and master?" 

•'What?" 

/'Where is your man ?" 

" O," she said, " he is out thar toting wood, I reckon." 

Out in the yard was the lord of the manor. Such a looking 
hotel keeper I had never laid eyes on in all my travels. 

"Can I stop with you to-night?" I asked. 

"I reckon you can," said he, keeping on chopping wood as 
if for dear life. 

" Where will I put my horses ?" 

" I reckon in the barn. You will find fodder out thar." 

I took care of my own horses and went in. For supper I 



AN OLD SPORT. 81 

partook of bread and bacon, a meal which was duplicated for 
breakfast. My bed was of cornstalks, husks, ears and all, 
making me feel all night as if I was passing through purga- 
tory without change of cars. 

" What is my bill, landlord ?" I asked next morning when 
about to say a sad farewell. 

" I reckon about eight dollars," this unblushing rascal said. 

"Eight dollars, eight dollars!" I exclaimed, "You don't 
make me ante that for such accommodations do you ?" 

" I tell you, stranger," he said," how it is. I'll have to pay 

eight dollars rent to-day for the house, the war is coming on 

and I may not have another man here in a year. You are the 

first one for a month and will be the last one, so I reckon you'll 

have ter pay." 
6 



CHAPTER VIII. 

WITH THE BOLD SOLDIER BOYS. 

A year before the war broke out, most of us will remember 
to our dying day, everybody was talking about shouldering a 
musket and marching away. The taking of blood was the 
chief end of man. It used to make me wince to hear the talk 
of slaughter, for if nothing else, I was a man of peace, though 
as patriotic a defender of the stars and stripes as the next 
man. 

My lameness of course excused me from service as a soldier, 
so I could not be accused of fearing to meet my country's foe 
on the field of battle. 

The air was full of war palaver when I found myself in Ver- 
mont, at Montpelier, having gone there from Norwich, Conn. 
I thought I had some good friends in that region. The 
Upmans, a family who used to boast of their lineage, were 
among them. 

A quiet little game was started to ease the presence of dull 
cjare. My winnings were about one hundred dollars, a part of 
which came out of the pockets of the best families of Ver- 
mont. 



AN OLD JSPORT, SS 

The next day I took passage for Burlington, Vt., in a sleigh 
that was going over the mountains. At a country inn half 
way over I was overtaken by a sheriff's posse, and arrested on • 
a warrant sworn out by my friends from Vermont. 

They had squealed like stuck pigs. On my return with the 
officers to Montpelier I met the gentlemen and for twenty dol- 
lars got my freedom back. 

My heart was sick, for I had a better idea of human nature 
than these first family fellows had given me. I have a deep- 
seated admiration for a thoroughbred. Vermont did not turn 
them out. 

It rather shook the dignity of the .old sport to be arrested 
for gambling. I had pursued the tenor of this life for years 
without being taught to regard my business, if honestly con- 
ducted, outside the pale of the law. 

This was not my only arrest. 1 uiight as well make a clean 
breast of my delinquencies now as ever. Not long after the 
first shot was fired on Fort Surnpter in 1861 I was in Buffalo 
earning my ^alt over the green baize. A crank acquaintance 
of mine, named Ned Ross, gave me $25 in what 1 thought the 
properly attested money of the nation. It was shyster stuff. 
At the fair ground I paid my admission out of this wad, giving 
the bill to John Stevenson, the famous liveryman. On the 
bogus money bemg found in the till I was arrested for shoving 
it, indicted and held for trial. On my ccusin, jasper Dodge^ 



84 AUTOBWaRAFHY OF 

of Aurora, going on my bail bond, they let me out into the free 
air of heaven once again. Out-of-doors is good enough 
for me. • • 

My friends rallied to me in my distress. Dean Richmond, 
the railroad king, of Batavia, Allen Monroe, ex-Mayor of 
Syracuse, and Cornelius Alvord, of Salina, father-of Governor 
Thomas G. Alvord, all wrote letters to J-udge Hall, attesting 
my good character and washing ray soul as white as snow. 

The indictment did not stand five minutes after these friends 
came to the front. 

I made the crank Ross come to the bull ring. They arrested 
him and on his conviction of passing counterfeit money, sent 
him into limbo where he sojourned until pardoned. 

Since then I have never darkened the door of a guard house. 

The flush times during the war made things hum like a ma- 
chine shop in sporting circles. Old fakirs who had not turned 
a card or dealt a game in years crawled out of their holes to 
get a piece of the wealth which was lying around loose. The 
cities like Elmira, N. Y., and Williamsburg, Pa., where the 
soldiers rendezvoused, were favorite stopping places with all 
of our clan. I myself never cared for these opportunities, as 
the games played were not of my sort. The lowdown gentry 
plucked the soldiers like geese at monte, bunco and pther 
devices of the kind, which the gamester, with the instincts of 
gentility, repudiated. These sharks and myself never had 



AN OLD SFOBT. S5 

anything in common. If 1 could not win a man's money by 
skill it never crossed my palm. 

Everybody felt easy in their pockets while the war lasted. 
Therefore people who had a spark of sport in th^n came into 
the charmed circle. 1 fared very well during these times, 
though years were beginning to tell on me. The old timers 
one by one were turning up their toes to the daisies, leaving 
me to plod along the thorny path alone. 

The winter of 1862-3 ^^und me hale and hearty in Wash- 
ington. The capitol was entirely unstrung by the excitement 
of the war and the preparations for the suppression of the 
South. 

Opposite the city, near Alexandria, the Army of the Potom>ac 
was encamped. I thought I w^ould go over and see some of 
the boys before they went forth to do and die. 

I found that no one w^as admitted within the lines of the 
encamped troops without a car/e de visite from the ' Provos- 
Marshal, with whom 1 was not on speaking terms. So I 
skirmished around for some friend who could give the count 
tersign. One day vvhile at the bar of the National Hotel, a 
gentleman considerably over the hill of life rambled into the 
throne- room and was greeted by nearly all present. He was^a 
man of distinguished appearance, rather shabbily dressed 
though, but carrying a cane and wearing a flower in his 
button-hole. 



m A UTOBIOaRAP Y OF 

''Ah, dear boys/' he said, as he pulled off a kid glove, '' hope 
you're well, hope you're well." 

This was the celebrated Beau Hickman. I vvas*introduced 
to him as one of the celebrities of the time. 

*' Mr. Dodge," he says, " I am honored in the acquaintance 
May we be better friends." 

Then he took me to a corner and asked me if I could 
accommodate him with a small loan. 

I shelled out two dollars and placed it in his velvet palm. 

Then he called me to the bar and ordered drinks enough t# 
consume the deposit, all but twenty cents, which he put in his 
pocket and smiled like a prince. 

Hickman, I was told, could pass me into the lines of the 
army. So I asked him to use his influence. This he prom- 
ised to do. 

The next time I met him at the National Hotel he said he 
had found it much harder to get the favor than he thought. It 
would cost money to beat down the barrier. 

'* How are you fixed as to money, my friend ? " he asked, 
with the smoothness of a school girl. 

" You dwell too long on one subject," I replied, as I walked 
away, convince44hat he was trying to play me for a sucker. 

I declared our negotiations off and looked elsewhere for 
assistance, I found an old friend who had a place in one of 
th^ government departments, with whom I visited the Provost 



Al\ OLD SPORT. 8? 

Marshal. To that functionary I was introduced as Judge 
Dodge, a title which admitted me without further delay. The 
pass was signed Drake De Kay. It did not cost me a copper. 

Going over to Alexandria I stopped at the City Hotel, meet- 
ing there Cornelius Alvord, of Syracuse, who showed me the 
rest of the way over the Mortar Beds, as the road was called 
on account of its condition. We were up to our knees in mud 
all the way. 

My arrival in camp was known in a very short time. Lots 
of the soldiers knew the old sport and many others had heard 
of me. Gen. H. A. Barnum, whom I had known in Syracuse, 
took pains to see that I should not be a wall flower. He intro- 
duced me all around. Gen. Robert Richardson and Captain 
Root, also fellow townsmen of * mine, who with General Bar- 
num did gallant service for their country, were also good 
to me. 

The boys were glad enough of my presence. There was 
plenty of loose coin in the ranks with no way to keep it circu- 
lating. We had therefore some very interesting^sittings, my 
engagements being more than I could fill. 

I remained long enough among t,he soldier boys to become 
pretty generally known, the sentries seldom stopping me as I 
passed across their path. They all had a salute for the old 
sport. 

One day a guard who had not met me halted me at the line. 



88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

*' Give the countersign/* he cried. 

This staggered me, as he had his bayonet at my fourth 
vest button ready to run me through the gizzard. 

** Son of Mars/' I said, '* conceal your spear, its silver sheen 
dazzles my eyes/' 

" The countersign, you damn Reb," he said, '* or I'll let out 
your breakfast." 

As I did not know the mystic word, they put me under 
arrest. The corporal of the guard took me to headquarters 
where I found General Heintzelman, a grim soldier and a 
strict disciplinarian. 

" Where do you come from ? " he asked. 

** From Syracuse, the land of salt,".! said. 

" Your name ? " 

" Those who know me best call me Dupely, Dupely 
Dodge." 

'* Your occupation ? " 

*' Gentleman and card player." 

"You ate a gambler,, are you ? *' 

" I do not accept the amendment. General, though vulgarly 
I might be classed as such." 

*'A\liy are you not a gambler if you play cards for a 
living?" 

" Not -any more than you are a murderer because you kill 
men for a living." 



AN OLD SPORT. m 

I think the rough warrior marked the distinction. 

" What are you doing in camp," he continued. 

** Making a party call." 

** Are you a loyal citizen of the United States ? " 

'* Clear to the bone." 

My cross-examination seemed to satisfy the General, who 
ordered me restored to liberty and when later he got creden- 
tials of my character from General Barnum, invited me into 
his tent for an hour. 

I regard my sojourn among the army boys as one of the 
pleasantest in my career. The men whom I met during that 
visit, m.any of them, laid down their lives as they would dis- 
card a low pair in a game of poker, knowing that the stake was 
a high one and worth winning. Better fellows or braver 
hearts never v/ent to battle for their country than my friends 
in the Army of the Potomac. 

Before returning north I slipped down to Baltimore, visiting 
while there Capt John Butler, of Syracuse, who was stationed 
at Fort McHenry. A court martial was in progress, the pris- 
oner being a soldier who had shot a comrade in a quarrel. 
•Capt. Butler was a member of the court and therefore so 
engaged that he could not be of service to me, although my 
stay was made very pleasant. 

On my way back to Syracuse, I stopped in New York, 
renewing some old friendships during a visit to my old partner^ 



^^ AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

Sandy Spencer, who always had a warm corner for me when- 
ever I darkened his door. The crowd at the Morton House 
put me at my ease when I dropped in to disturb their medi- 
tations. * 

Desiring to make Syracuse by easy stages I stopped over at 
Canastota to see how my old friend Landlord Roberts, of the 
Union Hotel, (now the Hart House, of which Jacob and John 
Graham, the famous shots, are the proprietors) was prospering. 
It was a day in August as sultry and unpleasant as an hour in 
Tophet. I had a little touch of ch.olera morbus to overcome 
and I thought Roberts could concoct a chemical remedy. * 

I discovered in going into the hotel Roberts taking a siesta 
at full length on the bar. He was sound asleep, unconscious 
of the world outside, 

" Hello, landlord," I shouted, '' rouse up and welcome the 
coming and speed the parting guest/' 

*' What's wanted ?" he said, half awake. 

*' Can you not give me a good libation of brandy 1 '* I asked. 

" You bet," he replied. '' Tve got brandy in that jug there 
that cost sixteen dollars in bond. It is stuff that will put hair 
on the teeth." 

'' Give me a draught of it," I said, smacking my lips. 

" All right," said Roberts, not getting up, "take a chair 

and make yourself as comfortable as possible. There will be 



AzY OLD SPORT. 91 

mother man in pretty soon who will want a drink and I will 
wait on you both at the same time/' 

Then he snoozed again. I made my exit, remarking that I 
might need the undertaker before the other customer would 
show up. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE FRATERNITY OF GAMESTERS. 

I have been too long one of the ilk to stock the cards oi 
the gentlemen of my profession now that I have come to writ 
a book. As a rule I have found my fellow gamesters a 
straight-haired, square-dealing and good-intentioned set o 
men as you would run across behind the bank counters anc 
store desks. 

Often, I ca.n not deny, I have been obliged to blush for th( 
trickery and underhand resorts of the professional sharper 
the bird of prey, who, fearing to meet his m.atch at cards, liej 
in wait for the unsuspecting countryman or callow youth. 

My associates all through life have been gentlemen anc 
scholars. As I look back on my career I can call by nam( 
hundreds of men, with whom I have played, then or since then 
high in the councils of the nation. 

During my sporting career cards and other games of chance 
have fallen into disrepute, owing mainh^, I am sure, to the 
failure of the profession to give gam.ing the standing it for- 
merly had, when money was exchanged as between man and 
man. The winning or losing of a few dollars in my time was 
thought nothing of, so long as the sport was good. Nobody 



AN OLD SPORT, 93 

ho came out of a sitting in the hole thought he had been 
>bbed. It was a square deal all around. 
In my youth the sweat board and wheel of fortune were de- 
ces which were not allowed in the respectable society in 
hich myself arid associates moved. It was the introduction of 
icse devilish machines for cheating the unwary which has 
rown a cloud over a legitimate calling. 

There are hundreds of up and up fellows in this world, who, 
ce myself, are old sports. I know them by the score, who 
3uld give their last dollar to help a friend. From these, my 
others, I have over and over again had a boost and to their 
)od offices I owe the smoothness of my declining years. I 
n journeying to the grave as easily as a ship slides off 
e ways. 

I have known all the leading gamblers of the country, who, 
iring the past forty or fifty years, have figured high in the 
orting world. In my tours about the country I always made 
a point to have with me a partner, who played on the square, 
r my games were mostly with business men, whose acquaint- 
ice I esteemed as much as their shekels. 
At different periods of my career I shared and shared alike 
th such men as Ben Scribner and Robert Gridley, of Sara- 
ga ; John Frink, Jack Fields and Col. Lafayette Bailey, of 
ew York ; Major Barker, Willis Wright, Angus Olmstead and 
cob Sterling, of Columbus, O. ; Sam Tubbs, of Dayton, O.; 



94 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

George Rose, of Philadelphia; Phillip Gage, of Albany; 
George Pettibone, of California; T. Westbrook, of Detroit; 
Doctor Peck, of Brooklyn; James Barton, of Louisville, Ky.; 
Dan Lawrence, formerly of Marcellus, N. Y. All of these men 
were known throughout the country as professionals with 
whom any gentleman might sit down in perfect safety. Many 
of them got rich long ago playing cards, but very few have 
stuck out until the game broke up with me. 

Many of the sporting fraternity in my palmy days acquired 
reputations as story tellers. This gift was always a good 
introduction in polite circles. One of the raciest fellows I ever 
met was Jim Scott, of Detroit, Mich., whose specialty wa& 
dialect. The thread of his wit never unwound. James 
Riley, of the same cit}^, was also a crack man at spinning a 
yarn. 

The West was the stamping ground of the sports. Occa- 
sionally Pennsylvania would produce a representative like 
Elijah Hall, of Pittsburg, who was known all over the king- 
dom as a high player and a cool head. 

I have had heaps of fun in my time keeping from running 
up against some other man's game. My clerical cut has made 
me good prey for the sharpers who are always to be found ia 
public places. Hundreds of times I have been mistaken for a 
respectable farmer just ready to be plucked. Ten or twelve 
years ago while traveling in the West I was accosted by a 



■AN OLD SPORT. 95 

three card monte robber, who talked to me about the crops 
and his purchase of cattle in the stock yards. Then he 
pulled out his little jokers to show me a queer game he had 
learned in Chicago. I was of course deeply interested until 
he wanted to bet me that 1 could not pick the right card. 

'* You want me to designate the winning pasteboard ? " I 
asked. 

'' Yes, just for fun, old man/' says his nibs. 

So I picked it out just for fun. Then he threw them 
carelessly again. This time I was positive I was right. So he 
offered to bet. I got him all worked up and then said : 

'' Go on to the next man, young fellow, I am in the same 
business myself.*' 

He shot out of the car door at a forty clip. 

During the war chance and slight reverses of fortune brought 
me to Oneida, N. Y., where I roamed into a billiard room kept 
3y Dennis Palmer. I was a total stranger to him. Rising to 
a question of information I asked if there was any game in 
progress in town. He replied that he did not know of any, 
but sizing me up with his eye, he thought if 1 would like a little 
poker, he could furnish the sinews of war. I agreed. 

He had only about thirty dollars concealed about his person. 
This I managed to relieve him of without much trouble. After 
he had gone broke he said he would retire for a little while, 
begging me to await his return. 



96 AUTOBIOi^RAPHY OF 

Not long after he appeared with another roll of twenty dol- 
lars which he had borrowed of Pat Farrell, an old friend of 
mine, who presided over the lunch counter in the depot. 

'* I've got an old sucker from the country over here/' Palmer 
had said to Farrell, ^' and I want to empty his wallet. He plays 
poker a little bit.'* 

The second pile went up the flue as quickly as the first. Then 
Palmer went back to Farrell to make another loan. 
• '^The mossback has had lucky hands,*' said he, "but I can 
skin him up if I had another twenty." 

'* What kind of a looking countryman is he ?" asked Farrell. 

" I think he is a farmer from Stockbridge. He carries a cane 
and has a game foot. You ought to hear him tell a story." 

"Why," says Farrell, •* that is old Dupely Dodge. YouVe 
picked up a hot horse shoe. Drop it as soon as possible, or 
you'll blister your fingers. Dupe is the slickest poker player 
this side the Mississippi." 

I lingered on the bye for an hour for my friend to come back, 
but he had gone, never to return. 

I always made it a rule to play for cash on the nail. As soon 
as a man bankrupted his exchecquer I usually dropped out, 
rather than take his note or other security for the winnings. I 
had once been the banker for a game in which they exhausted 
a button factory to keep up with the procession. At Cincinnati 
in 1864, I was invited into the charmed circle of a select party 



AN OLD SPORT. 97 

of gentlemen. Among the players was a bank director, who 
was quite a novice with the cards. Luck was the other way 
that night, for he bucked against a loss of $600. When he had 
chipped in his last picayune he stood up and said: 

'* Gentlemen, I have lost all my money, but if the bank will 
cash these securities I will try to keep my end up." 

He exhibited a number of United States government bonds. 
On this collateral he was given unlimited credit. Not knowing 
the value of the tissue I begged to tender my resignation. 
My chips were promptly cashed at the purser's office. At the 
foot of the stairs I met a friend who had been playing 
with us the night before. 

"How is the game going up stairs?" he asked. 

"All right, I guess," I replied. **When I left there was a 
school teacher up there who had blown in his last copper. He 
had just played in a railroad guide and was getting a map of 
the world cashed." 

This pleasantry was not far wTong, for the securities proved 
to be bogus. I never liked to scoop in the earnings of these 
novices, and as a rule avoided their company. 

Once in a while I would read the riot act to a beginner to 
show him the dangers of living in a country where fire burned 
and ice was cold. 

On one of my trips down the Mississippi I ran across a jolly 
7 



98 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

dog, who saluted with the pronunciamento that no two men 
ought to travel together without knowing one^another. 

"My name," he said, "is Deforrest Anthony, what is your 
patronymic?'* 

^'Dodge/' 

'^Dodge," he repeated. 

"True as preaching/' I said, "Duplicate Dodge." 

"Duplicate," he put in," that is a queer title." You are 
. probably a twin brother." 

** No, not exactly," I said, '* you see I have a game leg. 
When I get in a fight I sling my man from the shoufder and at 
the same time fetch him a kick with my crippled leg. The 
blow and kick go in company, that is, they are duplicates of 
one another, Dupely is short for Duplicate." 

We became good friends on the trip. He was anxious for 
amusement and said he could beat any game that turned. I 
told him I was something of a sport, and could shake dice a 
trifle. I had in my pocket three little jokers I had got in 
Chicago just to play with. 

My friend said he was a wizard at dice. As soon as his 
eye lit on the fixings he was anxious to try my hand. 

I threw the dice out carelessly until he showed the color^of 
his money, when he sung out : 

" Say, mister, I'll go considerable on this speculation if you 
don't mind me doublin' on you." 



AN OLD SPORT. 99 

" Anything to oblige a gentleman," I said, " but you must 
stick to one number.'^ 

" I'm down," he said, and sock he plumped a V on the six. 

When I saw the way the cat was jumping I manoeuvred some 
and just tilted some bones into my box that were trained to 
come up to trays. I shook 'em up pretty good, so the fellow 
could not complain of not getting his money's worth. They 
rolled out and up came the trays and down went his^V. But 
he was not scared a bit. He was a regular fighting chicken 
and kept the six well covered with his stuff, notwithstanding 
the industrious efforts I was makmg to keep the board clear. 
After a while I began to discover that he had to dive down 
pretty deep to chase up his change. Presently, with a desperate 
plunge he laid out a five, but before I could turnout the 
skulls, he caught my arm and remarked : 

" Say, old top, I swear if you do have the luck to hatch out 
:rays again, I'll eat "em." 

Thinks I, young man, you will be sure of your dinner if you 
Jo not perjure yourself. And you can believe me or not. 
before I was done thinking the dice were rolled and the trays 
rere up. 

The fellow grabbed them and swallowed them whole, skins 
md all, before I could interpose an objection. 

I hated to lose the souvenirs and mourned them deeply. J 
:new pretty well that the dice, bemg loaded, would not sit well on 



100 AUTOBIOaRAPHY OF 

his stomach as they were not built for digestion. So I awaited 
developments. Pretty soon he began to get as red as a lobster 
and to retch as if he was going to die of the lockjaw. I had 
made up my, mind that if the sea gave up its dead I would give 
him back his pewter, as I was only initiating him into some of 
the mysteries of astrology. 

He ran a race up and down the boat for several minutes, 
then stopped near the wheelhouse and gasping three or* four 
times, turned his diaphragm upside down. I thought his 
inwards would come out he yawned so hard. 

As the poor devil looked at the havoc he had made he 
said : 

''Well, I'll be durned if those trays haven't turned up 
again!" 

I gave him back his pelf with a few words of fatherly 
advice. 

Thousands of times I have been asked to reveal the secret 
by which I won my money at cards. I never traveled as a 
sleight-of-hand performer, therefore I have no tricks to 
expose. I of course learned many of the wiles which are 
practiced on beginners, but as for making them part of my 
outfit, that was the last thing I would think of. 

My opponents at poker were, as a steady diet, men of rather 
long heads, and plenty of grit. They were professionally as 
well informed as myself, or gentlemen whom it was a credit to 



AlSf OLD SPORT. iOr 

sit down with. I have played for high stakes in my day, in 
the early times, thinking nothing of standing up from the table 
with a rcll of one or two thousand dollars to put under my 
pillow. 

At the Neil House in Columbus, .0., during the sessions of 
the Legislature there was a stiff game in progress. The sena- 
tors, members and lobbyists were inveterate patrons of the 
pastime. Ten dollars ante used to be the rule there. It would 
make one sweat blood to see the jack pots. Judge Corwin, 
Senator Upton and Colonel Congdon were heavy players. 
At Detroit one night in three hours Congdon left me $500 
loser. 

Rochester and Buffalo always gave me a hearty reception. 
The amateurs there were no slouches at the game and would 
pocket losses of four and five hundred dollars v/ithout turning 
a hair. 

If it vvould not be a breach of confidence I could name a 
thousand prominent men, who have put their money on cards 
in games with me, and of whose good traits I have only kindly 
remembrances. 

Before the town went to the dogs Oswego, N. Y., was quite 
a snug harbor for a sporting mian. On one visit there, when 
the people of the city thought Oswego was to be another port 
like Buffalo, I had for a traveling companion a notable named 
Gennery. The fraternity knew^ him as '^ January.*' Faro was 



103 AUTOBIOeRAPY OF 

the favorite amusement, a luxury in which the rich forwarders, 
grain buyers and merchants indulged. The game went on at 
a hotel. 

Our business stood us in for about $3,000 as the result of a 
five days' session. The landlord of the hotel took advantage of 
our good luck, demanding as his share of the rake, ten per cent. 
of the winnings. Oswego seldom had such a discovery as this. 
No bigger game was ever played there. 

During the past ten years my hand has lost its cunning. I 
am slowly pegging out as a card player, a profession which 
during a cycle of ^fifty years, I pursued with as much fondness 
as a boy feels for his first pair of boots. Poker is the only 
game for a gentleman to play. If there is the blood of the 
poltroon in your veins it is dollars to cents that it will ooze out 
in a game of poker. It is the best thermometer of a man's 
character that was ever invented. 

A man who plays poker like a gentleman is a gentleman in 
every spot and place. 

Let that pass as the old sport's proverb. 



CHAPTER X. 

TO POINT A xMORAL AND ADORN A TALE. 

The old sport has told his story. It is the history of a life, 
full of ups and downs, but on the whole a life which finds me 
on its home stretch with a stiff upper lip and blood in my eye. 
This is tlie best book I knew how to make out of the raw ma- 
terial on hand. My father used to say you couldn't make a 
purse out of a sow's ear. I guess he called the turn. 

One of my keepsakes is a chart which cost me two dollars. 
It was bought of a phrenologist who took an inventory, of the 
bumps on my head when I was a younger man. The verdict 
of this man of science was that I was built above the shoulders 
like Voltaire. It was worth the price of admission to get the 
compliment. But the Frenchman died rich. That is more 
than the old sport will do. 

You can never tell how the photograph is going to look 
from where you sit. My money has come and gone like my 
winters and summers. There is a glorious uncertainty about 
the life of the professional card player which holds out a 
golden promise'to Youth, but makes Age skin a greased pole 
for a square meal. 

Fifty years ago I sat on the same bench in a tailor shop in 



104 AUTOBIOeRAPHY OF 

Syracuse with C. Tyler Longstreet making breeches for the 
big bugs at two shillings a day. Twenty-five years after, the 
apprentice boy who stuck to the needle and thread, was the 
owner of Renwick Castle, living on the fat of the land, an 
honored citizen of the town. We used to board and lodge 
together in a little hole in the wall down a side street. More 
than once the two boys went snooks on a doughnut one of us 
had abstracted from the larder of our landlady. I became a 
rover, he a millionaire. It is a great world we live in and few 
of us get out of it alive. 

My old friend is no more. And here I stand on the berme 
bank waiting for the last lock. Nature, after all, gives the 
boys about a fair shake. My old friend wallowed in wealth. 
To me she gave long life. Nature is a square dealer. She 
never lets both players in a game hold four kings on one 
ante. 

The best nag in the stable will go lame with long driving. 
I am pretty well satisfied to have come up to the judges' stand 
with my wind good and my carcass whole. 

I was playing in the best luck in my life along about 1862. 
I built no castles, however. The money I had earned by the 
sweat of my brow I invested in two farms near Syracuse, on 
which I enthroned my two brothers, that they might be virtuous 
and happy. They were dairy farms. At least there was so 
much grease under them that they slipped out from under the 



AN OLD SFORT. 105- 

Dodge family and left the honest tillers of the soil dancing on 
nothing. After that I made up my mind that as the govern- 
ment meant money to be a circulating medium I would be 
patriotic enough to keep it going. As fast as I minted it, 
therefore, I gave it the bit and let it fly. 

It has gone where the woodbine twineth. 

But a man who makes friends in this world need not 
begrudge his neighbor the paltry and elusive dollar. I would 
rather play for hearts than diamonds in an atmosphere like 
this on earth. The friendship of a man like Alexander S. 
Spencer, of New York, is a thing to cotton to after you get 
through with the dross the common herd call money. 

My debts are debts of honor. I confess judgment to 
'* Sandy *' Spencer for more good turns than there are words 
in the dictionary. When the old sport ran ashore under his 
roof, he found a man who was true blue right through to the 
bone. Going up the steps of the Syracuse House in Syracuse 
in 1875 I slipped my cables and received a shaking up that 
brought on paralysis. It was my old friend '* Sandy " Spencer 
who made a place for the sinner with his legs out of kilter. 
While partaking of the bounteous hospitality of his establish- 
ment at No. 212 Broadway, New York, I was patched up 
almost as good as new by one of the celebrated bone-setters 
of the metropolis. Life is too short to get even with a man 
who has so much of the milk of human kindness in, his com- 
position. 



106 A UTOBIOaRAPHY OF 

A heaveathat does not keep cases on good deed^ like these 
is not of much account to me. And I think there is a bower 
of roses for the best of us who pay one hundred cents on the 
dollar in this world. A man cannot go stubbing around the 
country as much as I have done without finding out, to his 
own satisfaction, that there is a better land than this somewhere 
on the other side of the shining river. I tell you, boys, you will^ 
all have to face the music when the band begins to play. 

I would like to know how to square accounts with the 
women who gave the old sport succor within the portals of St. 
Joseph's Hospital and the House of the Good Shepherd, at 
Syracuse, N. Y. They are the noblest of their sex. My .old 
bones have been a care to them more than once during the 
past six or seven years. Such attention as they gave me would 
mend a man farther gone than I was. A man may go oveg 
the wide world heeled like a bank director without finding 
that human nature is pretty soft clay after all. To find out 
that in the rough and tumble of life there is something else 
besides a tussle for the stuff that makes the mare go, you^ 
ought to lie on a sick bed in one of these nunneries. You may 
be as tough as sole leather, but the kindness of a woman, who 
comes in and out of your sick room like an angel on tiptoes, 
making you think of the mother of your boyhood days, will 
stir you to the marrow. 

The weeks I spent in the nunneries are among the pleasant- 



AN OLB SPORT. 107 

est in the recollegtion of the old sport, as he rounds the horn 
of life. If the good ladies, who make all hands as happy as 
they did me, will take for cash an old man's thanks for want 
of better collateral, I will hold dear the little accommoda- 
tion. 

God will bless them without my invoking the benediction. 

My experience in this world of sin and sorrow preaches a 
sermon. The yarn I have spun plays all the picture cards 
into the game. You miss your guess, boys, if you think that 
all my life has been as rosy as the morn. No bible class is 
likely to make ''The Autobiography of an Old Sport" a text 
book, but if the old jester can put on the surplice long enough 
to throw out a few pious remarks for the benefit of mankind 
at large, they ought to get a show for their life. 

Life, my giddy and frivolous young friends, is nothing but a 
game of poker. You may flatter yourself that you can beat 
all creation if the cards come your, way, but bitter experience, 
covering a rather protracted period of my life, convinces me 
that if hold fast is a good dog brag is a better canine by a 
large majority. I have seen many a man lay down an ace 
full to lose his reckoning on a pair of trays. Trays are a 
pretty flimsy bottom for a long voyage, however, and will 
not float long in deep water. 

What am I driving at ? 

Only the luck of life. 



108 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

Lots of barnyard fowl, with no more fight in them than a 
blue-jay crow loud enough to, frighten a cock with game in 
every pinion out of the county. I have seen noodles with 
heads so light that they had to weight their feet like a trotter's 
to keep them on earth, go about with gold galore in their wal- 
lets, while a man of brains hewed wood and carried water for 
chore money. You can never tell how the cards are to be 
dealt on earth, barring the legerdemain of the dealer, who in 
this life is always on the square. 

One day in life you get up a winner by a thousand. The 
next you have gone broke on the turn of an ace. You never 
know where lightning is going to. strike. 

In my day I have raked in as much pewter as the general 
run of men who have adorned the same station in life, but at 
the end of fifty years of honest toil in the elucidation of the 
king of games, I find myself writing a book for what there 
may be in it. If anybody thinks he is going to strike it rich at 
the card table let him manipulate his arithmetic a little while 
on my success. 

The lightning calculator could not bring the two pages of 
my ledger up to a trial balance. 

I have wondered over and over again where I would have 
wound up had the shoemaker stuck to his last. I mean by 
that, had the tailor stuck to his goose. Probably my cash 
account would have come out better. But I would have 



AN OLD SPORT. i09 

missed heaps of fun. • It wasn't in the pins for me to be any- 
thing but an old sport. I was born with a jack of clubs in my 
hand. There was an ace mark on my arm. Destiny sent 
me a hobbling rover from one end of the county to the other 
with a deck of cards to carve my future out of mankind. It 
was high living while it lasted, but the career" of a sporting 
man is as full of snags as the rolling Mississippi and twice as 
muddy. * 

When the old sport gives you his word for it, boys, you had 
better make a minute of it. 

When you get all through with the life, your chips cashed, 
your collateral on deposit and your sugar in the bowl, you are 
bound to feel like I have done ten thousand times after an all 
night session, unsteady on my pins, blind in the off eye 
and shakey in the nervous system. The poker player spans 
the allotted years of man in a night. Winning or losing, up 
or down, survive or perish, it is all the same, when the trum- 
pet blast is heard, as the clarion note of the chanticleer routs 
you out of your downy couch in the early morning, if you 
think at all, you are sorry for it. 

Money comes easily at the card table, my innocent young 
friends will say. So it does, young man. But it gives you 
the slip just as easil}^ 

Luck is the slipperiest trump turned. 



110 A UTOBIOGEAPHY OF 

It is here to-day and gone to-morrow. It cannot be fastened 
to a stone fence with a log chain. I know what it is, young 
man. It has more legs than a centipede and can trot faster 
than Flora Temple. The man who tries to follow it afoot will 
not get inside the distance flag. 

His skill, the young man thinks, will save his bacon. All 
right, my covey, try it on and see if you will come up to the 
scratch with your board bill paid and a railroad ticket to the 
next town in your pocket. 

I tell you, boys, I never knew a sport to die a winner. 

Some«of my old partners turned in at the finish a dollar or 
two, but it was coined at some other mint than the card table 
or faro bank. 

But there is no pocket in a shroud. 

I am now sitting in my final game and my last shilling is on 
the board. Four of us are sticking it out. Life and 
Death, at opposite ends of the baize, are balancing to partners. 
My vis-a-vis is Old Age. Three rattling players these. It is 
a good man who can come out with his hide whole in this 
bevy. 

It is my deal. 

Let us see how the cards lay. Whoopee! Death holds a 
flush; Old Age is squinting with his specs into the pamted 
features of a king full; Life has just drawn four cards to an 



^iV^ OLD 8 PORT. Ill 

ice and stays in on a pair of four spots. What a bluff ! 
[t is just like life. 

What is my hand ? 

A spade, by all that's ghastly. 

I pass. 

THE END. 



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Done Neatly aiiJ Proilly.' 

Cor J. Wamn and CteUis. 



"Jim." 



" Phil." 



uiphg Bm%, 



Foreign and Domestic ■ 



-AND- 



SO I Rail read St., Cor. M&lberrj 

SYimCPSE, N. Y. 

Pool Room in Oonnection. 




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Immediately adjoining Wiecing Opera House. 

Ill lift 4pp-^^n.*e| 111 ii til li^i 

The Electric Bell in connection with the Stage will 
ring one minute before the curtain rises. 

T©l©phem© 0©3am©eti©ms! 

Courtesies cheerfully extended to the Profession 
and the traveling public. 

GEORGE G. CAMPBELL 
NORTHWESTERN 

II]:5S01]I6 JID ^SSOCipiOIJ 

©f oKia^a©v III" 

ORGANIZED JULY, 1874-THE UBOEST IN THE WORLD. 

CLARK H. HOETON., Special Agent, 

No. 5- Burt Street, Syracuse, N. Y. 

Also Sole Agent for the Finest 

d, I, R, ^BMimk | RmiyR%mfi 

Size, 22x28. - - - Price, $1.25. 

Call at Courtney Place for information, 



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MARA & MORRISSEY, 



Also Proprietors of the 

111 Seymour St., Cor. of Oswego St,, 

Syracuse. N. Y, 



MATT. MARA, 
JOHN MORRISSEY. 




OF ALL DESCRIPTIONS 



-BY THE- 



(Standard publishing i§o,, 

18 East RaiW Street ■ ■ SYEACDSEJ.Y. 

M. DEVOY & COT, 

Coal, Wood and Charcoal, 

OFFICE, No. 9 EMPIRE BLOCK, Near Court House, • 

Yard, Corner Geddes Street, Bridge and Erie Canal. 

Orders Received by Telephone, Card or Otherwise . 

Soilcitorg— ABTHUR F. OtiARK, GEORGE A. BALL 



COURTIEY FLAG 

35 W. Fayette & 40 Clinton St, 

(OPPOSITE HOTEL BURNS,) 

THE MODEL PLACE. 



Choicest Brands of Wines and Liquors Direct from Bond, 
and Spanish, French and German Cordials, 



BILLIARD PARLOR. 



DOMESTIC J^MD IMPORTED CIQJ^HB. 



Greenway's East India Pale Ale, 

Ogdensburgh Renowned Stock, 

Philadelphia and Bass Ales, 
IVU/i Bohemian Bavarian a?id Stock Lagers Drawn from Wood, 
(isro i^xjisdii^s-) 

Leading Brands of Shell Oysters and Olams Eeceived Daily, 
STEAMED OYSTERS. 

Telephone, District Messengers, Cabs and Coupes at a Minute's Notice. 

GENUINE C. WEHLE ROCHESTER FRANKFORTS. 

No Oleomargarine used. None but Jersey Butter from Mr. Dan. Twoarood's 
Celebrated Jersey Cattle Farm. 

SE.A.TIlSra- OA.I^.A.aiT^5r, ISO- 
J^^The Only Washinirton City Oyster Steamer in the City. 






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